Sketch Me
by Zelia Theb
Summary: Images of infatuation pour forth from his fingertips like a heavy stream. He spills them onto paper, sketching in every last detail of his desires. [HieiYusukeKurama]
1. Act I: Allure

Sketch Me is a _Yu Yu Hakusho_ fan-fiction that strays somewhat from the series. I suppose that it could be labeled as "AU", however, it is still my firm belief that all fan-fictions did not take place, and therefore all of them occur in an alternate reality and time. The idea for this work spawned from my other more humorous work, Mischief 101, in the sense that I threw in a hidden talent for art on Yusuke's behalf.

Yusuke is still a Spirit Detective. Hiei and Kurama are still demons. Botan is still the Grim Reaper, and Koenma is still the Prince of Hell. I am not rewriting their characters and keeping just their personalities. The setting is the same.

As with The Seibu Project, I am using this work to further my writing ability. Please make any and all necessary criticisms, and try your hardest to leave a review that at least tells me one thing you liked or disliked about each chapter. "Update soon, plz k thx" is okay, as it adds to my review count, but like most established authors, I could care less about that and would prefer to have something of content to read. Authors here do their work to give readers something to read and enjoy, and we expect just that kind of treatment in return! Thank you for understanding!

(I make mention of Yusuke being a human in here. He is a human. Deal with the fact that perhaps the Chapter Black Arc hasn't happened yet in this fiction. But if you feel the need to be infantile about it and dispute that fact – I love reviews that boost my review count!)

* * *

**Disclaimer:** _Yu Yu Hakusho_ © Yoshihiro Togashi.

****

Sketch Me

By Zelia Theb

Act I: Allure

A light breeze caressed the black tips of his straight hair; threatening the careful gel-work performed by his hands earlier that day. It dipped below his feet and sent tiny blades of grass growing between the sidewalk stones into a light wave. The warm wind was but a compliment to the lovely spring weather, bringing in the blossoms of the sakura with every gentle gust.

The crimson pink petals waltzed around the teen, filling his minds with images of his friends; who all were connected in some way with the beautiful color of red. Red like the locks of his mysterious partial-demon friend Kurama. Crimson like the deep ambiguity of the short-tempered fire demon Hiei. Pink…just like the favored color of his childhood friend, the intelligent and ever-so innocent Keiko.

Red, just like his hands would be if he were to be discovered.

A fleeting moment of laughter struck him, its phrasing frozen by the feeling that someone was following him. He held no fear within, no. He held that determination to win close to him; waiting for whomever it may be to show themselves; waiting for that moment to fight. Soon that feeling had fluttered into footsteps that followed him; footsteps which made no effort to conceal themselves.

"What are you doing, Detective?" The voice was familiar, a revelation which had brought the familiarity of the footsteps' rhythm into his head. Eyes flashed at him, resembling the swirling sakura petals, encased in pale white flesh that contrasted striking midnight strands of hair.

"Stealing," the delinquent boy replied casually, a response that Hiei had expected from him.

"Hn," the demon grunted, his stride matching the boy's, "What do you intend on stealing is the question." Yusuke was most curious to him; an attention seeking loud-mouth who truly hooked Hiei's interest when he _wasn't_ shooting his mouth off.

A smirk befitting of the Devil fell upon the boy's lips, vowing to reveal an obnoxiously obvious juvenile answer. They parted slightly, simply stating, "Pencils."

Hiei would have let loose a laugh if that was in his nature. The boy amused him to no end. Their likeness was astounding; Yusuke enjoyed causing trouble just because. Hiei, on the other hand, had enjoyed taunting the demon bandits that had taken him in as a child, just to see them become angry. There was not much of a difference.

Instead, he chose to maintain his resolve, suggesting a less criminal option to his pencil shortage against his better judgement; "You _could_ ask the fox, Detective. Are those not the tools you humans use to complete your school work?" The urge to laugh coursed its way through his body once more. The thought of the infamous Kurama being bound to human regulations and society was unbearably droll, especially when compared to the carefree demeanor of Yusuke; a human who was meant to be a human.

He could contain it no longer. An inescapable 'Hah' spawned from his throat, contagiously making its way over to Yusuke, who also proceeded to chuckle.

"I'd rather not. These are special pencils. I don't think Kurama would have anything like the ones I need." Although the thought of absconding to the Minamino residence excited him; he had an itch that needed scratching.

"Alright, Yusuke," Hiei smiled in return, "My visit held no importance. I'll not impede your scheme." Just like the trailing breath of his words disappeared on the breeze, so did he, but not before leaving Yusuke with a portrait-like impression stamped into his brain, desiring to explode from him; threatening to abandon him with nothing but a fond memory of a shadow.

His promenade down the park road had invariably led him to Katie Gashitsu, an arts and crafts store chain with a small store front on that particular block. His task was minimal; steal the soft graphite pencils and leave unnoticed. Getting away with it had been easy; the clerk at the counter was undoubtedly a new hire, and was having difficulty helping a customer who spoke in broken Japanese. On his way home, he patted his pocket, keeping the two pencils close to his heart.

Upon arriving there, he found his mother propped sideways on the cushions of their sofa. She was lounging, smoking a cigarette with a clearly inobscure bottle of sake at her side. Their open apartment was surprisingly neat and tidy, if one were to disregard the empty pack of cigarettes that lay on the marbled counter of the kitchenette. The boy was pleased, to say the least.

He rather enjoyed the new apartment. The building itself was not as towering as the previous one, however, they were still on the third of five floors. The windows were fairly large, looming over each room, and each of them housing either an inlet balcony or a charmingly deep inset windowsill. His mother, through her yakuza connections, had found the mysterious money to decorate; adorning each balcony with vertical blinds, and every window with sleek white synthetic drapes. The rest of the interior had had become an amalgam of both Asia and Egypt; the walls resembling the creamy dark eggshell of adobe, but framed within wood and joined by tatami mats.

The slender young brunette at the couch gave her son a slight nod, acknowledging that he was home, and went back to her regularly scheduled program. She had neither the strength nor motivation to prod her spawn on the toils of his day, or whether or not he had gone to school or just put on his uniform for fun. So she let him pass on past her, watching his reflection on the screen stride behind the couch and on into the hallway of his bedroom.

Once there, he plopped his behind into the mattress; another new item that he felt no need to protest against. It was soft and conformed to his body, however still gave him the support he needed when he slept on his back. It made his alone time far more snug and cozy. He whipped off his green jacket, tossing it onto the floor below the window at the foot of his bed, then leaned back into his folded hands, recalling his previous but brief stroll with Hiei.

The brown mist of his eyes swirled upon itself, setting forth the steam powered clockwork of Yusuke's mind by laying sight upon a lone pencil sharpener; it's blade glistening at him from across the room; pressing him to whet its whistle with wood and imitation lead. He called back to it, pulling the ill-obtained drawing tools out of his pocket and tearing them from their cardboard and plastic jail. He teased the sharpener; waving the sticks back and forth until the blade was drooling. In a spastic embrace of fingers, plastic, and timber, a pencil twirled and twirled with the spinning cone of the sharpener; being devoured until its cool gray core was exposed.

The artist within him awakened. Hungrily, like a beast fresh from a long hibernation, he opened his closet. Hidden beneath the swaying clothes was a wooden crate, filled with a stack of sketch pads, some filled with pictures, and some not. He reached for his most recent book, however he was stopped still by the chill sent up his spine. A voice came from his beyond his door, endangering the sanctity of the works, and he dropped it out of fear, shutting the closet quickly.

Keiko was not to know about this if she were to come inside the room. He anticipated the consequences many times before. She would pester him to draw for her, or to take art classes and pursue a career after art college. After a predictable union between the two; most likely caused by the many journeys of guilt she insisted on taking Yusuke on; she would prod him to do something more than live off of the canvas; to draw architectural structures or something far more professional for an advertising company. He would of course, refuse to do such, in his head claiming that he had already married her against his own will, and that should be enough, and she would leave him

Of course, on his most immediate platter, would be her disapproval of his preferred subject genre. She would glance at his early works; mainly fan-art of various martial arts manga characters, with littered traces of her in full female bloom here and there; covered of course. She would move on through the dated works to find more of her, this time in much more explicit situations; as he was practicing female anatomy. His portraits would go on to convey the many personalities of their friend Botan; some of her partially dressed in her kimono; her hair falling out of it's violet ribbon and falling to her bare ivory shoulders, cascading into her fully developed bosoms. And then…

Then there would be the demons. It begun as a collection of homages to demons he had encountered and defeated; like paying respects. Suzaku had been his favorite; he enjoyed the tiny distinct lines of the feathers, and the explosion of color on his wardrobe that challenged his shading techniques. He had found the reason that many comic book artists enjoyed drawing their characters with wings and feathers falling around them; wings resembled a freedom, or an angelic, possibly even demonic personality. Feathers…they held something more morbid in his heart. Feathers plucked from dead foul, displayed in a shower of a grace and beauty, though the end of their empty shafts would be stained in blood.

However, something had changed…he became infatuated with his allies, who looked so human, but simply were not. They each held their own thrones in his soul, and it showed on the paper held in the metal spirals of his sketch books.

"Come on in, Keiko," Yusuke finally replied, greeting his childhood friend with nothing but the same look he had gotten from his mother when he returned home. She appeared to him, as innocent as usual, with that dull look in her eyes, scolding him for everything he has ever done and will do. He hadn't been too fond of her hair lately; it was now long enough to tie back again, but she insisted on keeping it down; as if her attempts to make her appear mature and womanly would really work.

"Yusuke…" the brunette trailed off, cueing his mind to shield itself from any impending criticisms, "I was hoping that you'd actually _meet_ me for that foreign film after school. Where were you? I waited for an hour, and by then the film had already started!" It was agitating. His shield had been ready, but he had chosen to keep it at ease, instead allowing her to press all sorts of buttons; buttons brought up by his impatience.

"Fuck off, Keiko," he sneered; the snarl taking her back like he were a rabid dog, "We only ever do what _you_ wanna do, and even then you never _ask_. All you try and do is change me; like you can just pick up some eraser and run over all the scribble lines and make me into your perfect man."

Denial and anger coursed through her; and she rose a perfect slender hand to slap him. She opened her mouth to try and stop him, but instead _he_ stopped _her_ by softly catching her wrist within his callused palm.

"Big deal. So I shoulda told you I was blowing you off," the boy admitted, letting her hand drop, "But you're expectin' too much, and won't even go to that next stage with me. You're stage skippin'."

"If what you mean by _stage_ is that I should sleep with you," the girl flexed her sarcastic intonations, "Then no, I don't want to go to that next stage with you."

He growled, irate at the statement. She was not the beautiful flower that everyone had thought her to be; no, she was a flytrap. Her upbringing and exceptional grades was merely a cover for her loneliness; a hunger to have a friend that didn't care about those things. It drove her to devour them, digesting them into something palatable.

"That's what I mean. You thought of me as such a crude bastard that you figured I meant that. Well I _didn't_ Keiko. What I meant was dating. You're so cold and controlling that you won't even let us officially be boyfriend and girlfriend. So how should I have any obligation to you?"

"Ugh," she uttered, disgusted that she couldn't get through to him. She slid his door open and quickly shut it behind her, storming out of the apartment. He heard his mother bid her farewell; much more of a gesture than what she really would give him on a daily basis. Thank goodness; his patience had been worn thinner than ice.

He took his pencil in hand once more, having retrieved that and his book from his closet. Dark gray lines streamed through his fingertips and into the delta of the pencil tip, creating circles, curves of collarbones, and firm, muscular arms. The background was minimal, squares representing a sidewalk, and random scribbles that would eventually become the brick of passing storefronts. Before long, he had represented two figures, one nearly a head shorter than the other, making their rounds down the park avenue. The nude outlines of the boys needed clothing, faces, and expressions. He could not place anything mischievous on his own face; no. He wanted something happy, something to take him away from Keiko's control. He needed his own eraser.

Rummaging through his belongings, he finally found it. Pink, soft, rubber darkened on the corners by its use over time; the once rectangular erased was now smooth and circular. He rubbed it gently along the paper, erasing the boys' hands. They were not happy; they were distant. The boys needed something to hold on to, someone to share their hearts with. They did not need the stares of the other street walkers beyond the pages.

Their fingers needed to intertwine. Like vines upon wire fencing; they needed support. The two turned their heads to each other, smiling, chatting, thinking about what they would do later that night when they were alone. Hair sprouted on their foreheads first, smoothing back on the taller boy, and flying every which way on the shorter. It had become too intense. Yusuke discovered himself aroused by his fantasy; unable to properly place clothing on the boys in the sketch. He had to settle down.

Fortunately for him and his rising erection, another friend of his stopped by, having been let in by his mother. It was Kazuma Kuwabara, classmate and ally; whose orange hair, brown eyes, and overall features reminded him of the deciduous trees in autumn more than those of spring. His knock was different from Keiko's; firm and impatient, but excited and not angry. Yusuke smiled; musing on whether or not to let his friend in or wait to see how long it would be before he let himself in.

It was only a moment. Yusuke laughed.

"Hey, Urameshi!" the tall burly tree exclaimed, still accustomed to addressing his ex- rival by his family name, "Wanna do somethin'?"

Thick ebon brows arched, showing interest in Kuwabara's question. He wanted to find a way to disassociate himself with the lust that threatened to ache in his pants, and get away from his sketch for at least a few hours. Night time would be a far better shawl to swathe himself up in, for not only his sketch, but much more erotic activities as well.

"Sure," he replied, setting the now closed pad down upon his blankets, "What's up?"

"Me an' the guys are goin' out for some karaoke. I'm gonna meet 'em there but I told them that I would stop here and ask ya first."

"Hah," the shorter burst out, "And they still went despite the fact that they're kinda scared of me?"

"Yeah man, they're cool now," his ally assured him, layering honor within his voice as usual, "They said it was kinda my fault for pickin' fights with ya all the time anyway."

"'Kay man," the tougher one flexed, "Just gimme a sec to brush my teeth and whatever. Be right back." He sauntered off out into the small corridor, and into the water closet to begin said brushing process.

Meanwhile, Kuwabara sat down on the bed, having to move the sketch book out of the way. He looked at it curiously, and wondered, _Since when does Urameshi draw? He's not here now…should I look? What if he's makin' some sort cool action manga?_ No sooner had he picked it up and looked at the cover, did Yusuke re-enter, ready to roll with minty fresh breath, and agitated.

"Hey, don't look at that!" he demanded, reaching over and snatching the stolen sketch book from his friend.

"Sorry, man, I just got a little Botan in me and wanted to know what kinda manga you were makin'!"

"I'm not making a comic," he said sternly, brows furrowed into furious slopes.

"Aw, come on man. Can I see?" Kuwabara's words held a genuine interest; he actually wanted to be a true friend and give praise to whatever works may be inside. Yusuke, on the other hand, didn't want any sort of praise. He didn't want recognition, period.

"If I show you _one_ picture, will you promise not to say anything about it, _or_ bring this up again, _or_ do anything else to piss me off?" His friend nodded, assuring him that it was a promise between men.

After an albeit annoyed sigh, the detective cautiously flipped through the pages, and was debating on whether to show his friend the portrait of Botan, or one of his many depictions of Suzaku. He sank upon the Saint Beast, figuring that showing a love-starved friend a picture of a female nipple would drive him to ask for more pictures.

"Fine," Yusuke stated, "Here." He produced the picture; the blonde demon was surrounded by brilliantly furled wings of all different shades, a malevolent look was plastered upon his face and an army of phoenixes swelling from a perspective point far behind him. It was; if anyone else were to see it to critique it; awe inspiring.

"Man…" the chiseled one uttered, stopping himself since he had promised not to say anything. He cradled the pages in his palms, wanting to tear it from Yusuke's tight grip in order to get a more personal and close view. It was then taken from him, closed, and tossed back into its dark home beneath the wardrobe; a great disappointment to Kuwabara.

He had a newfound reverence for his already well-respected team mate. He wished so dearly that he could request a print of the work, signed and framed for his bedroom. It was Yusuke's secret, nevertheless. The treasure was not his to share; and it was more lucid than crystal water as to why it had to remain that way.

* * *

The night had proved eventful. The girls had been plentiful that day; as one of them happened to be celebrating their birthday. So inevitably the boys had to show off, trying to sing all of the latest and greatest songs, with Kuwabara and Yusuke competing for who could sing the most foreign songs. That was an utter disaster. The ladies had found it adorable; so each boy had gone home with at least one number in their pocket; and in Yusuke's case; three. On a personal level, though, he had no intention on calling them. Kuwabara had tried his damnedest to decline the numerical writing spree, claiming that he had to be true to Yukina, but one feisty girl had still slipped a piece of paper into his pocket.

Yusuke had fallen fast asleep, wearing nothing but flannel pajama bottoms. It was a serene setting; he hadn't gotten that much sleep in days and the stress of Keiko, school, and his work had taken its toll on his body. His muscles felt like jello, and his mind was gray matter mousse that had been left out to melt into a puddle. They wanted to rest, recover, and rejuvenate themselves.

So his ears hadn't picked up on the slight sound of windows shifting, nor did he perceive the burning embers of energy emitted from the being who had entered his bedstead. The demon stared sensually at his companion, succumbing to the thought of surrendering to his emotions. The sojourns to his bedside had become more tempting over time, but he had absolved himself of the feeling each and every visit.

Hiei often struggled with this tumultuous storm within. Here he was; a demon previously in charge of a plot to enslave thousands upon thousands of humans, confined and restricted within the very cage he had wished to destroy. The thought of enduring emotion, the idea of acting remotely human; it was sickening, or so he told himself. In actuality, it was his shield; his personal protector. It enabled him to accept his past; to accept that he had lived through what he had lived through because he was meant to, not because he was a victim of ill-circumstance. To admit being a victim; that is like asking for help. And to ask for help; that is cowardly.

However, Yusuke broke this. After living for hundreds of years; after maturing into a hardened young demon, he had encountered a foe like no other. At first, after their first destined mission together; he had thought it to be respect for the victor in battle. It was an egotistical thing; if anyone could beat _him_ than surely that person would deserve his respect.

But it was much more. The roots of acquaintanceship ran deep, blossoming into branches of friendship, and now…

Now there was this. The visits at night. The desire to figure out _why_ he was so curious about the detective in the first place. In all honesty, he truly did know. It was that large portion of him that wanted to resist that gave him the ability to act indifferent, and remain that way. If he allowed his imagination to stray; _if it strayed just once_; that would be it.

He was met with the inability to stay awake, unfortunately. He felt the soft thud-thud of his mother's feet walk past the boy's door and on into her own room. It had allowed his eyes to maintain their composure momentarily. Then, he had jumped once when Yusuke turned over in his bed, shifting sheets and rustling blankets into the slick and unsteady rhythm of dissonance. Finally…finally…he had fallen into fantasy.

Yusuke had waken up refreshed, and ready to draw. He was astounded, and more importantly, _excited_ to find that Hiei had fallen asleep in his room, back slump against the wall and butt on the floor. The sun permeated through his window, landing gracefully upon Hiei's porcelain features. Sometime during the morning, the petit demon let his face drop to his left, shying his eyes away from the light.

He was adorable. It was the perfect caption for the teen's newest hand-rendered photograph.

He worked fast, anxious to entrap his fascination within the pages of his art. Within minutes an hour passed; it was now nine fifteen. Yusuke had etched in everything aside from his signature, and was about to do so when Hiei had leapt to his feet and onto the windowsill, embarrassed.

He pouted, "What are you doing." It was the best way to divert attention from the fact that he had allowed himself to fall asleep on Yusuke's floor.

"Nothing!" Yusuke cried out, attempting to flip the book shut on its spirals, but accidentally holding the page with his pencil. Faster than Yusuke expected in the morning, Hiei jumped to the bed and obtained the book, opening to the page of…him. Sleeping.

Dust-colored lines. A boy. Gentle rays of sunlight highlighting his nose, tossed spikey haired spread into a star burst against the wall. It was him. He looked so…human. So much like Yukina. How had the detective done this?

"You can tear it up if ya want." Yusuke's words struck him…unusually. Like an arrow with a rubber suction head. He _wanted_ to tear it up; there was no doubt about it. How could he be drawn as pure as Yukina? The sheer notion that he could even compare himself to an angel such as his sister disgusted him. He tore the page from its metal bindings, tossing the book into Yusuke's lap; for which the boy was happy, due to not wanting Hiei to see his other works; and then…

He did not destroy it. He stared at it, gazing into the pits of what he believed to be his blackened soul. It was not there; this dark eminence ceased to exist.

"I don't understand," was the simple yet blunt statement.

"Huh?" Yusuke quirked, "_I_ don't understand _you_. It's a drawing. I drew it this morning when I found ya sleepin'. I was kinda expectin' you to either get really pissed or demand to know why I drew you."

"Fine," Hiei responded scathingly; hating that which he did not understand, "If it'll please you, then I demand to know why you've taken an artistic interest in me." _An artistic interest in him_. It sounded awkward in the air, and even more uneasy on his tongue.

"I just wanted some practice," Yusuke lied, for once thinking ahead and not leaping into action.

The idea of getting back at Keiko and being sinful, now that was tempting. Having something he desired; something away from the missions, or school, or homelife. That was salivating.

"If you don't want to tell me what made me so appealing to draw, then don't," Hiei caught him, "I'd rather just not ask any questions. I didn't take you as someone who had a talent for things other than fighting and a loud mouth."

"Well fine," Yusuke concurred, offering up an agreement, "Just don't say anything." He paused, knowing that it was stupid to suggest that Hiei was some sort of gossip; "I mean. If ya come around again, would you care if I practiced more?"

Smiles filled the rooms like gold would fill a pot at the unseen end of a rainbow. Hiei knew that he was going to comply with the request, and Yusuke knew that Hiei knew he was lying about the practice. It was yet another likeness between them.

"Hn," Hiei let out the last of his grin, "All right, Detective. But you'll not speak in that annoying tone when I feel like leaving." With that, rolled the sketch up into a scroll and held it like a sheathed katana. He wasn't exactly certain of _where_ he would keep it, but inevitably, he would keep the work safe. It was comforting…to know that the brother Yukina deserved and wanted _did_ exist; even if he were but an image on paper.

The boy was inwardly ecstatic. Sketching a live model was exciting and exotic. He _felt_ like a camera earlier that morning. It was…exhilarating, guessing when Hiei would wake up and break the mood. He wondered then how he had been so fortunate to be blessed with such a marvelous statue of fragileness and beauty; thanking whatever forces created Enma for the sliver of an opportunity to see such. And now…now Hiei, one of his two desires, had given him full time permission to draw him whenever they were in the same room.

But how far could he push it? Just how long would Hiei fake-model for him, and how _much_ would be model for him? After all, he hadn't agreed to _posing_, only to being drawn if he happened to be occupying Yusuke's eye space. There were many seconds to ponder the issue, however, now was a time to ease the grumble that stirred within his stomach.

"Want somethin' to eat?" he offered, figuring that he would be able to slip in and out of the kitchen before his mother had the ability to commit the energy to rise from bed. Even if such a slip would include the time it took to steam rice and roll omelettes. Still, he had confidence in his cooking abilities, and in the fact that Atsuko would not bother to wake up. The smell of food wasn't all that appetizing to one who was desperately trying to keep their alcohol within their body.

Hiei's eyes momentarily took the shape of slivered almonds; let the boy cook breakfast for him? Eat? These were all things that he had never considered as an option, mostly because to imagine such things would mean fantasizing about staying the night in Yusuke's bed. So he stayed silent, or tried to. The grumble living within his own stomach answered in his place, inciting giggles and an exit from the Spirit Detective.

Upon sliding the door behind him, the teen stretched his armspan fully, letting out a yawn of the ages, and then dropped his hands to rub his chest. The reason for such a morning routine was only known to men. The apartment was still clean, and luckily, so was the kitchen. Immediately he dove into the refrigerator, claiming milk, soy, and eggs, and then placing them next to the stove. After obtaining rice and mindlessly measuring it for the steamer, he went about making coffee.

The grinds smelled of caffeine and cafés. It was invigorating, and always reminded him of something sensual and calming, despite the known effects of the beverage. As he stirred, fried, and checked, he mused about how he had gotten so dexterous at the art of cooking. He recalled the first time he had tried his hand at making coffee.

His mother was horribly drunk, and had to sober up for some reason or another. He had, in haste, tried brewing coffee, adding too many scoops of the grinds for the amount of water. On one hand, it had invariably left the woman so gleeful that she overexpended her energy quickly and fell asleep. On the other, Yusuke was left so jittery that he could barely sleep for nearly forty hours. His stomach moved like a brick of gelatin, not only when he was walking, but when he was in bed laying as still as a predatory panther ready to strike. His heart thumped so rapidly that he was almost certain that he was going to have to chase it down the road if it were to escape.

Imagining Hiei in such a state caused laughter to roll out of his lungs and loudly into the air. He calmed himself, as he was not ready to drug Hiei just for giggles. Breakfast was ready, at any rate. He retrieved two trays, and readied them both, scooping two bowls full of rice, pouring two cups of coffee, and finding chopsticks fit enough for the Japanese eggs. He wished that he could have found much more to serve, and made a mental note to scold his mother later for neglecting to go food shopping.

Thankful for Genkai's training on balance, he gingerly picked up the two trays of steaming sustenance and made his way around the sofa and into the hallway, using his foot to slide his door open again. He called out to Hiei, "A little help?" to which Hiei replied by taking a tray and seating himself on the open windowsill.

"It ain't much," Yusuke defended, "My mom's not really the motherly type if you know what I mean."

"All too well," Hiei responded truthfully, eyeing the eggs and debating on whether or not use the sticks to poke at them or his hands. He caught Yusuke; who had caught him; propping the sticks in his hand and using them like extensions of his own fingers. Coyly, he tried to do the same, only to have one drop into his coffee.

Falsifying the intent that he had meant to do such, he set the tray down beside him on the ledge, picking up the stick from the brew and licking it, and then taking the rice bowl in hand and attempting to spoon it out like the boy was doing. The result was the consumption of only two to three grains of rice at a time. Once again noticing Hiei's struggle with the meal, Yusuke stood and retrieved a Western utensil; the almighty silver fork.

"Here," stated the boy, producing the four-pronged savior, "Just don't stab your tongue with it."

The rest of breakfast, and the day, had gone fairly well. Yusuke never fathomed the thought of spending the whole day with the demon that didn't include work from Koenma, but they had done so. Mainly they had trekked around the lesser dwelled but very beautiful parts of the city, both insisting on keeping their hands shoved into their pockets; as that was what they did. Conversation was minimal, but touched upon different anecdotes about their past.

Yusuke informed Hiei of the many fights that he and Kuwabara would get into, and even cited the quickest time that he had surmounted him. He could not recall hearing Hiei laugh more in his lifetime. It was deep yet beautifully tenor, a genuine tone of joy that suited him. His fair face fit well with his beaming expressions; there were no wrinkles or dimples to taint it because Hiei was not the type to be happy.

The fire-demon found his mind straining to contain his imagination. Enjoyment pushed the membrane walls contained within his cranium, weeping from his eyes and ears; dancing on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to do anything to keep himself miserable; to keep himself demonic and unmoved. He sensed the fox nearby. Kurama endlessly annoyed him with his on the fence attitude and calm demeanor, not to mention the constant insult to his intelligence that he posed. He was the perfect remedy to his headache.

The sun had given its warning, and painted the sky a bright gradient of apricot and plum. Hiei had insisted that they take the next corner instead of the previous one, putting his plan into action and causing them to change course toward Kurama.

The green-eyed redhead was dressed casually; in dark colored khakis and a light purple polo shirt. He had just come from a local bookstore, and was carrying a handled paper bag containing two textbooks on biology. He greeted his comrades with a smile, gently bowing and joining them on their stroll.

"What are you two doing out tonight?" the handsome and built boy inquired, "I didn't expect to see either of you on my trip to buy some school books."

"Hn. Boredom." The plan was already working, however…

"Yeah." Yusuke mildly slapped a hand around the smallest's shoulder, cupping the joint itself in his palm; "We were bored so we've been walkin' around the city stirring up trouble." It was an exaggeration, they all knew, but that was part of Yusuke's charm.

The demons did not disregard the gesture. In fact, it irritated them. Hiei was fast regretting the decision, while Kurama was horribly fascinated by the way in which Yusuke's thumb caressed their ally's shoulder. He found himself wondering, _What is between them? How does Hiei not flinch?_ It was all part of his astute nature; and it killed him, inciting an arousing feeling of jealousy that woke the spirit within him; sending the silver fox hairs on the back of his neck into standing position.

"I'm surprised. I would have thought that you two would have received stares," Kurama stated in a mocking tone, "With Hiei dressed so dark, one might have mistaken you for a member of a gothic clique."

"You speak as if a white toga were something to brag about, Kurama," Hiei remarked heatedly.

An idea burst into Yusuke's head, born from the imminent spat between the two. He turned and stopped Hiei mid-stride, taking hold of the opposite shoulder, and staring at him with passionate and anxious eyes. He exclaimed, "I just got this great idea! You've gotta come back home with me!" The raven had no chance to answer affirmatively; he was seized at his left wrist and torn from his slower pace by the detective, bringing them into a full-fledged run home. Yusuke called back, not wanting to literally leave Kurama in their dust, and apologized, "Sorry Kurama! Nice seein' ya!"

Disappointed as he was, he waved politely, formulating a way to win Yusuke over that would not intrude on their partnership with Spirit World and Koenma.

The two ran to Yusuke's building swiftly, appearing as black blurs to those who would have seen them. The boy detested the thought of letting another muse get away from him; which often happened during class or cases. They would hide from him forever, leaving only traces of their presence but not enough for him to produce astonishing replicas of them.

Carelessly, they burst into his apartment, finding it dark and empty, and then carried on straight into his room; sweat rivuletting down their necks and backs, dampening their attire. Without so much as a word, Yusuke lifted Hiei up by the waist; a task not so arduous because of his small size and feather weight; and set him upon the windowsill, setting his skin on fire with the colors of the sunset.

In seconds the boy had removed his moist tee and uncovered a long lost set of colored pencils. Hiei watched as he worked fast on the heavy sketch paper; the process was intriguing. He became lost in the strokes of yellow, red, and ebon, upset at their sudden halt.

"What."

"Something's…" Yusuke let himself falter, and stood from the bed, setting his sketch pad down and wide open for anyone to see. The demon was warm; the sun was amplified and he was still covered in his perspiration soaked cloak. It intensified when Yusuke came all but too close him, and took hold of the white shawl round his neck.

The artist played with the fabric between his fingertips, taking the brief moment to understand the clothing that Hiei wore nearly every day of his life. It was soft, too soft for the picture. It made him sleepy; and he didn't want his subject too cozy and pure within the plush of the white. He muttered, "I don't want this…" before pulling it completely off of him, dropping it into a well coiled ivory snake on the floor. He found his way back to his work, acting as if this was normal and characteristic behavior.

Hiei had not agreed to be a poseable model, but he let it happen. His imagination was wandering, and never before had he the chance to study a human so intimately. He was preoccupied with the observation, and before long was caught off guard when Yusuke had meandered only inches away from his skin once more.

Masculine fingers wrapped around the closed edges of his cloak, tugging with the knowledge that it was easily removable, pleading with their brown eyes to aid him. Hiei sat forward only a mite, giving the cloak leeway to come off of his arms and body, and that too, fell upon the sleeping serpent on the floor. Yusuke desired to color the skin. He wanted so badly just to see how the light glistened through the sweat; to see how it illuminated the curves of Hiei's supple torso. But there was still a torn black tank in the way, and the sun was rapidly fading into moonlight.

The hand fell into the collar of the black top, tugging and tugging, feeling no resistance from one who _should_ have resisted. A hormonal lust washed over them, bleaching out feelings of artistic intrigue and necessity, regurgitating the drive for sin, revenge, rebellion, imagination, fantasy, and appeasement of a now prominent ache.

They inched closer to each other, lips seeking the other's touch, desiring the continuation of the sensual strip-tease. But it never came; that magical moment where they let themselves go and become vulnerable never happened. It was interrupted by the loud entrance of Atsuko and her drunken yakuza friends, clamoring over various pieces of furniture and laughing loudly whenever one would unavoidably stumble.

Yusuke had stopped himself, allowing his hand to drag across the pink flesh underneath Hiei's shirt as he walked toward the sliding door to his bedroom, and locked it. Mechanically, the boy put away everything; his pencils, sketch pad, and clothing; then retrieved a clean shirt before shutting his closet as well. Fortunately, he had been rude enough to not kick off his shoes when they had entered the apartment, and he stated, "Let's go to Kuwabara's."

Curious as to the alternate reasons for Yusuke's change in behavior, he nodded in spite of his dislike for the oaf, and dressed himself, opening the window. It wasn't that much of task to scale the building for Yusuke, he had supernatural powers, but he didn't much feel the need to have a punch-out fight with the yakuza in order to escape his own house.

* * *

Author's Note

If anyone can provide me with corrections in grammar and spelling; please do! While running the computer through with a spellcheck, it found the following errors; Poseable, rivuletting, and omelettes. Now, I guess that the American spelling is omelet. My spelling must stem from my years of studying French. Rivuletting…I suspect that I invented this word, like many others that I haven't even listed. Poseable. Well, that word isn't invented, I don't think. So either it isn't in Microsoft Word's dictionary, or posable is right and it just looks funny to me (it found a correction for neither of them). For both spellings, it says that it was wrong, but yet when looked up with the thesaurus, it states that pose is a related word.

Again, I'm writing this for practice. I want to get out of my short story habit, and possibly make writing into a career. Please leave any and all valid criticisms.

Zelia

(wow…25 pages in html format!)


	2. Act II: Scent

Allow me to answer a few questions, comments, and concerns.

First off; **Keiko**. She has been brought up as being "too mean" or "slightly out of character". I'd like to take a moment to explain her. Or not. Basically, I've described her relationship with Yusuke as I see it in both the series and the manga, somewhere in the beginning of this chapter. The two remind me of a relationship that _I_ had for three years with someone, except turn me into Yusuke and my ex into Keiko. Basically, the two people involved in the relationship might not necessarily be bad people; BUT; that doesn't necessarily mean that they will be super duper compatible. I feel that, given the situation, both Keiko and Yusuke are VERY in character. And don't get me wrong, I adore Keiko. Remember; not only is fanfiction fun, but it's to see how the characters would react in different situations.

Then, the **grammar**. I highly appreciate all of the reviews I've gotten so far! However, there were to critiques that I do want to say that I meant to do. Hiei was just "the raven", because he flies in and out of windows, and he generally wears black all the time. Just as Kuwabara was a tree. Also, Hiei's mother obviously would not be in Yusuke's apartment, so I let that portion stand (as I know it CAN be confusing with all the he's and his's). I super-duper appreciate the look out though! But these two items were intended! And thanks for the feedback on poseable!

**The Pairings - Hiei-Yusuke-Kurama**. So far, we see the attraction of Yusuke to Hiei, and Yusuke to Kurama. You've been wondering if this would be a threesome pairing, or a love triangle. Well…we haven't seen all of Yusuke's sketch book now, have we?

And now, the **compliments**. Thanks so much! I'll be sure to inform everyone when I get started on writing my original. If you guys want a taste of what story I may go for first, please check out my fictionpress account and read either Eternal or Agent X3. They won't stay in that form, but their idea is there and at least posted for © status, so feel free to take a glance at them.

* * *

Sketch Me

By Zelia Theb

Act II: Scent

Kuwabara had made no fuss about allowing Yusuke to spend the night at his home. He did, however, complain of the eerie feeling and prickle on the back of his neck that Hiei gave him. It wasn't a foreign concept; having Yusuke stay there. In fact, he stayed there two nights in a row. Kuwabara never asked questions; he made his own deductions as to why he chose to stay there, which while it might have been detrimental to assume such, it kept his curiosity at ease. Hiei, on the other hand, well…he was afraid to ask why Hiei had come along, or why the demon had to sleep there too. The psychic boy did complain, and he did fight, but he kept it minimal. Maybe Hiei was just lonely; maybe the exotic allure of resting in tree limbs during locust nights had finally worn thin. But the little demon could have been a lot more pleasant to him after providing such hospitality!

Either way, their stay had been overspent, as per the opinion of Yusuke, and ironically enough, when Yusuke returned home, Hiei also left. Was Kuwabara that revolting? Perhaps the demon held some sort of attachment to his classmate. It was weird, thinking such, but he had always thought that of the three of them, Yusuke was the one that Hiei found the _least_ annoying. Even his kindred demon comrade Kurama was bothersome, unless they were discussing fighting strategies on the sidelines.

The boy recalled the sketch of Suzaku, mid-math problem. Why would Urameshi draw a demon he had defeated? Had he drawn his friends, too? Had he drawn Hiei?

He had, several times. In fact, as soon as Yusuke had returned home; with Hiei; he had intended to draw many more. The image of bare skin had branded his mind, and silently he had hoped that perhaps Hiei would leave him while he showered. He wanted to render an explicit picture.

Water trickled down his body as he thought of the many flattering positions Hiei could be found in. The demon need to open up more, be flirtatious, be…sexy. Fully nude, teasing someone to come closer, challenging them to remove his hands from his groin, yearning for him to expose himself to them. Yes, this would be the drawing…but would he be able to contain himself afterwards? He could hardly keep himself dampened now, and he chose to take care of the problem.

Meanwhile, Hiei had made his own choice, and that was not to leave. He also had a problem that required attention, and he alleviated that problem by snooping into Yusuke's closet and taking his sketch book. The sneaky spying had only lead to more unquenchable curiosity.

That girl, that annoyance that he had the displeasure of kidnapping once before. He had _not_ wanted to see her this way. The female figure was rather…revolting. He could never imagine his sister acting in such a sinful and unwholesome way. He had to flip through, skipping over Botan and then landing on the first drawing of himself.

He really was an ugly demon. His eyes…his multitude of eyes, sprouting from sickly green skin. He resembled an imp, ready to strike at any moment, and driven by a bloodlust that was shameful and idiotic. He truly did deserve to be thrown into the pits of the Demon World. Was this what he had become? But the Jagan…it was not to give him this sort of power. No, it's meaning was much deeper, wasn't it?

The blankets beneath him were messy, untouched since two days previous. They rustled under his light weight as he removed his outer clothing, taking Yusuke's attack and tossing them to the floor. The craving consumed him further, coaxing his fingers to turn the pages. He grew impatient, skipping over the drawings of Kurama by losing them in the chunks he flipped by. He landed on another of him, poised with sword, ready to attack a foe; and yet another, this time using his fists.

And then, ever so slightly…his sunset orbs descended upon a page whose bindings were resting on the torn remnants of the work he had turned into a scroll. He knew who it was; though the specific details of their wardrobe had not been worked out; there was no mistake. It was he and Yusuke, during their brief but memorable walk only a couple of days ago. And they were _holding hands_.

Skin to skin, completely indifferent to any passer-by. It was like…how that moment should have been. That moment in the fading sunlight on the windowsill. Hiei could have felt his tank stripped from his body, endured the fear of leaving himself vulnerable to Yusuke's vexing caress. He could have uttered a moan after flinching from expected contact. He might have been able to erase the pain, if only for a moment.

No imagining. He could _not_ let himself drown in the pool of self-arousal. He would not die at the hands of emotions. Would his immortality be cut short the second he allowed himself to lose strength in love? Most certainly; Kurama was a very prominent example of such.

His head lifted when he heard the water in Yusuke's bathroom come to a halt. He let the book rest, not wanting to be caught but yet making it so obvious that he _had_ looked. The demon had fallen to deep into his fear, letting the chains of anxiety wrap around him and leave him defenseless to Yusuke's questions and possible advances. It was unexplored territory; and Hiei desperately needed to be brought out of the dark and into the light; much like the sunset that had befallen his skin two days earlier.

The grinding of wood echoed in Hiei's ears, and Yusuke entered; black hair dripping and a yellow towel tied at his waist. Water, tea, and coconut scents enveloped the air of the small room, fragrances which had by now permeated deep into the epidermis of Yusuke's body. An unmistakable scent of lust wove in between the others; and the pheramonal energy engulfing the taut-muscled teen conquered Hiei; further binding him to his lounging position on the bed just as fear and anxiety had previously done.

"Yusuke," he called out to him, bringing the artist's attention to the open sketch book.

The naked boy turned his head, noting Hiei and book in his peripherals, and devilishly smiled. He slyly spoke, insinuating, "So, you'd like me to draw you again?" The tone was seductive and uncharacteristic, most likely a flirtatious spin on the speech of the fox.

Hiei responded with a turn of his head, bringing his chin down a notch and flashing his eyelashes ever so slightly. His brow was relaxed, relentlessly maintaining that urge to leap up from his bondage and flee the opportunity to know the touch of another's fingers. Albeit, the overall appearance was stirring and orgiastic; almost like the risqué one that had Yusuke pleasuring himself under the showerheads.

Yusuke had wanted to make some sort of smart remark about not seeing Hiei relaxed before. He would have taken the sketch pad from his side and tossed it in a safer, less noticeable place. However, act brash he did not. Instead, he sat next to the him, shuffling the sketch book to the side, with towel tight and growing tighter. He then prepared his model, placing raisin fingertips on placid fabric, and tugged.

Keiko…she could not tell him what to do. She could not invigorate him this much; she would not allow for it. She was no mystery to be solved, no box to be unraveled. She was Keiko, and she was angry with Yusuke. Angry because he stood her up. Angry because he was always away and never checked in. Angry because he constantly left her with this sick feeling of worry that he would get into trouble, get hurt, or even worse, find someone else to be a pervert to.

Keiko was not here. She would not approve of this; that she wouldn't. To the best of her recollection, she would never be able to remember that Hiei had kidnapped her. She would never be able to admit that perhaps Yusuke had eyes for others; that his sweet chocolate orbs were as tempting at the candies they represented. She knew him _so well_, that seeing the boy caught up in a homosexual relationship would spin her in circles; causing a tornadic upheaval in her brain. Pondering the reasons to her friend's perversion when all along he held an interest in men. Bisexuality would only come to her head after several hours; possibly days; of forced apologies on Yusuke's part.

They were perfect for each other…in the eyes of others. Everyone around them, even those who were close to Keiko yet terrified of Yusuke, believed it. It was all very cliché; childhood friends of the opposite sex grow up together, only to fall in love and get married. That was their romantic view on the relationship, one which plagued even the Spirit Detective team. Sure, the thought hadn't been so far-fetched too long ago. But now it was becoming increasingly more lucid that they would inevitably fail together as a romantic couple. It was that very pressure of 'if' on the intimate level that had caused so many problems between them; and 'hooking up' was not going to solve any of it.

Keiko represented a flawless Japanese life. Yusuke was not that way. Not only was he a closet-artist, but his niche was also in fighting; in things that affected people on a far grander level. Keiko could always argue that he could bide his time well in careers that _human society_ felt could help the world…but Yusuke…

He knew that he would eventually ask Keiko to marry him anyway, despite his own unhappiness because that is what _she_ wanted. Of course the marriage would make him happy on _some_ levels, yes. But not all. He would always be left with that feeling of 'what if'. He would feel inadequate and like a drone to society. That lacking feeling of accomplishment would eventually drive him mad. In fact, he often recalled the time that he had suggested to Botan that he _stay_ deceased, because he felt that his life would lead nowhere.

But…Keiko was not here. So he had to live his borrowed life to the fullest. He no longer wasted any time.

Hiei did not flinch when Yusuke's hand tried to figure out how to overcome the problem of his tucked-in tank. He did not waiver when he felt the buckles of the tiny white belts at his waist snap. He only shuddered and arched back obediently when the detective solved the problem and drew the shirt over his head.

Yusuke's devilishly charming smile returned once more, painting an exotic expression of want upon the canvas of his face. Hiei had always worn pants with a high waistline, that he would have never imagined a dusted happy trail starting a couple of inches from the demon's belly button. He brushed his thumb over the fine hairs, then swept the hand around and underneath the small body to accommodate his hand to the apex of Hiei's upper thigh.

Powerful magnetism pulled them together, pressing pink to peony; and artist whispered to model, "Do you know why?"

"Because…" Hiei let loose a yelp of air, having held it in too long from the intoxication of his senses through Yusuke's aroma. His breathing became heavy, and he attempted to continue; "You…don't want to be…like me."

Water fell from glossy strands of jet black and tickled Hiei's neck, just as Yusuke's lips descended upon his, briefly catching a second of moist skin before the detective purred, "And you don't want to be like you…either." Again, their open mouths met again. Yusuke took sumptuous and short dives with his tongue, allowing his body to rub in rhythm with respect to the kisses. He came up again, and promised between them, "And we don't have to tell a soul."

Lips transcended to Hiei's neck, then landed with rough yet gentle suction. The demon recoiled quickly, embarrassed that he could handle a fight but not even the slightest sensual sensation. He responded to the previous statement with, "Why would we?"

A dreamy expression held their faces. Yusuke meandered up Hiei's neck, tracing the fine curve of his muscle, and whispered fervently into his ear, "Oh…gods…Hiei…" He rubbed upon him again, eyes rolling in the back of his head, and he finished, "…I don't know…"

Had one told Yusuke that he would one day fool around with Hiei, he would have laughed. It was only a fantasy; only a few wet dreams. Hiei would never get involved with anyone, let alone someone who had defeated him once in battle. He held too much pride. Yusuke had first begun thinking of Hiei after that first remark from Kurama, something along the lines of, "I think he's starting to like you." He knew that Kurama had only meant that Hiei was finally opening up to someone; and after all, Kurama _must_ know him best; but Yusuke often found himself thinking of Hiei anyway. Whether it be a Keiko fantasy gone haywire, or the recollection of a midnight reverie, he thought of him. Sometimes he even pictured Hiei in the arms of Kurama, like he were a voyeur watching their demonic copulation.

Hiei, however, had inklings that perhaps Yusuke would indulge in his flesh someday. The boy did speak highly of Keiko, yes, but he was a general goofball and had flirted with everyone at least once, if not twice a day. Hiei had denied to himself the pleasure of enjoying the come-ons, which had allowed him to forever forget that he used to have feelings as well.

These notions of never carried them on; never stopping to question the other, never protesting a tenderly placed kiss, never wondering if Koenma had been watching them this entire time. Their intimacy could have peaked had they removed their last bit of coverings and gone beyond the dry friction between them, but it did not. Yusuke had to maintain some sort of self-control; he had felt Hiei trembling as if the world were going to crush him, and that it would declare that Hiei were the weakest of the weak; a free-for-all slave for the taking. Seventy-three minutes from its inception, it came to a _very_ abrupt halt; very much like a car slamming into a brick wall; when not only Atsuko came home; but the very girl that Yusuke was trying to avoid; Keiko.

"Yusuke," muttered Hiei inaudibly to the girls. He wanted to say more, he wanted to let the detective know not to worry about him but to instead worry about his secret, however, he didn't need to. Yusuke had taken his face in his palm, and thumbed over his cheekbone with a farewell smile. It was an unspoken invitation to see him again soon.

* * *

All school and no play makes Shuichi a dull boy. That is what he had overheard a classmate of his say to his clique of friends. He was one of a growing group of people who believed that Kurama was just a pretty boy who had no life. He had no close friends that they could recall, at least not during this school year. He always was at the top of the class. He was always so polite. He was in the science club.

He was a 'dork', or so they said.

Normally, Kurama wouldn't let these sorts of things bother him. He always told himself that the reason the boys teased him behind his back was because they were jealous of his magnetic powers with females. But this week…this week was the worst.

He was irate, and above all, his teenage hormones were on a rampage. Seeing Hiei so chummy with Yusuke made him infuriatingly jealous; it wasn't that he wanted to deny his friends happiness, it was just that _he_ had hoped to be the one to stray Yusuke's eyes from Keiko. Even if it were an affair on the side of the plainly perfect hetero-pair, the youko within him did not mind.

However, now was the time to prove, at least to himself, that he had a life. He had invited Yusuke to join him at the arcade only a few blocks from the academy, knowing the boy's affinity for video games. The arcade was busy, dark, and filled with human voices, and the tiny blips and beeps of the game. Occasionally a bell would sound and a siren would go off. It was like…a juvenile version of a rave club; and the overall darkness that it possessed mystified Kurama, making his demon side feel at ease.

He had taken a special precaution to dress more provocatively than usual, the toga comment being one to urge him to do so. One would not have thought that something so appealing would exist among the orange jackets, plaid shirts, and yellow yarn pull-overs would exist within Shuichi Minamino's wardrobe. He should have regretted the comment about Hiei being involved with a gothic clique, because at that moment he appeared to have been pulled fresh off the stage at some rock club. His black sweater was tight, revealing muscle that everyone knew was there but had never visually seen aside from through the various tears caused during battle. Even more uncharacteristic of his usual garb were the leather pants, that he was lucky to have absconded out of the house wearing without his mother asking; as she wasn't home at the time. Had he been asked just how he was able to afford such, he would have grinned and replied, "A Youko never tells."

Fortunately for him, many of the girls were too occupied with their digital characters to glance at him. However, one Yusuke Urameshi was not. He found him right away, and had to contain himself from seizing his wrists and leading him into the boys bathroom. His teenage chemicals had been all out of whack since he fooled around with Hiei three nights ago. There he was, wearing something as simple as a pair of blue jeans and a white tee.

He followed the inoffensive and fragrant musk of Kurama to the darkest of dark corners in the arcade; near a row of gaming consoles of a rather unpopular game. The only ones who ever played the game were those who invested much time in real-life role-playing games, and due to the complexity of having such a game on an arcade machine, only those who would have no reason to spread gossip would play them. Again, a fortunate series of coincidences had meant that no one was there at that particular time.

"Would you like to play?" the redhead smiled, the locks of his bangs suggestively covering one eye. He gestured to the empty pleather stools that sat before the hardly played consoles; the words "Magic and Dungeons" flashing upon their screens.

The side of the boxy console had a giant wizard on the side, and flames from a fire-breathing dragon. There was a knight bearing a sword and shield. Where were katanas, the ninjas, and the geishas? This was not Yusuke's sort of game. The teen replied, "Uhh…no thanks."

In spite of the way the statement was worded, the teen actually had no choice. Kurama placed his left hand upon Yusuke's shoulder and his right into the small of his back, and lead him to and empty stool on the end, stating, "Oh no, Yusuke. I simply must teach you. Please, take a seat."

He sat down agreeably, taking in the heat and curves of Kurama's body as the boy leaned over him and placed some complimentary coins in to start the game. The midi violins and timpanis cued the end of the opening cinema scene, and soon Yusuke was left with a small pixelized halfling in a cape. The next question from his mouth was most anticipated; "What do I do?" He wanted to be an elf, not a hobbit.

Kurama slid in next to him, occupying the adjacent seat, and then took his hand and moved it to a green button on the flat console. Yusuke pressed it one too many times. In a flash, the hobbit had brought forth a sword and struck the storekeep, who promptly slayed him; leaving him with no more than a flashing red 'GAME OVER' on his screen.

"I died." Yusuke went to press a key in order to retry, but the redhead caught his hand.

"Wait," he pleaded, unable to discern how Yusuke felt, and growing increasingly impatient.

The plainer of the two escaped the light grip easily, and placed his palms on the smooth leathered thigh just above the other teen's knees. His eyes followed the path between Kurama's knees and lips, stopping to get a glimpse of the shaded bulge just below Kurama's waist, and then continuing after he felt his stare would burn a hole through the fox. A timbre of hunger cloaked his voice, and the boy remarked, "I never knew you to wear leather, Kurama."

Yusuke had once sketched an erogenous work of the redhead before, clad in something similar. He had placed his friend upon a tall wooden stool, with his bare back arched and palms supporting his body behind his posterior. He had dressed him in tight leather pants, with black leg-wrappings unraveling at his delicate ankles. Similar bindings fell from his wrists and were tied in his hair, and in his mouth was placed a single silver chain. In that moment, he felt like he had somehow had the pleasure of seeing his work brought to life. He could touch it, feel it, caress it. He could, if he pleased, capture its lips, and tighten the binds on its limbs so that he could make love to it.

A malevolently delighted and quiet laugh came from Kurama. He had seen something beyond the mocha and within the clockworks of Yusuke's head; and it was not his normal moronic behavior. It was something like the passion that he had seen when rescued from the curse of the mirror, but this fire burned upon entirely different embers. He would eventually have to answer him, deciding that silence would not be the best way to reveal his own emotions.

Kurama reached for Yusuke's hands again, this time placing his palms flat upon Yusuke's knuckles. He asked, "Does it bother you?"

"No."

Of course not; that _something_ was confirmed; "You know, Yusuke." He began to stroke the hands beneath his, and mentioned, "We have never spent much time together outside of our work, yet during battle the affection that is present is far deeper than the need to keep your allies living." Green peered into brown again, searching for a preemptive answer.

"Heh," Yusuke chuckled, "Quit pussyfootin' around man. If you're asking me whether or not I've thought of you as more than a friend…"

"I'm not asking," Kurama quickly corrected him.

Yusuke's pupils went wide and face flush. He slightly protested, "You know about her, right?" His hands had become hypocrites. He wanted to pursue this, become truly immoral and two-timing, but he felt that he could ease whatever guilt may come if he mentioned Keiko. However, his fingers could not stop their massage of Kurama's firm legs.

"Mmm…Yes," the fox answered, "And your skin is also doused in the scent of Hiei." They leaned forward a bit, eyeing their peripherals to check for any spectators. None were found.

"Won't this change the dynamic of our missions?" Yusuke whispered, in yet another attempt to let Kurama know that he was releasing the responsibility of feeling guilty.

"We will all have to work together anyhow. I don't believe that Hiei or Keiko will be jealous because neither of them have to know." His cherry locks fell in front of him, dangling on top of their hands and tickling their skin.

Kurama had proved a very valid point. Yusuke was not an item with anyone; he had only messed around with Hiei because they had a moment in which they needed to fulfill each other. Hiei would never want to discuss any sort of relationship…but what if he were watching them. What if he thought that Yusuke would _know_ he wouldn't want to speak about being together, but had already assumed that they would be? _No…_they had briefly touched upon that already. Yusuke had to be selfish, just for once in his life since his death at fourteen.

An unusual question crossed Yusuke mind, and he asked, "Did ya ever wonder if maybe I wasn't into guys?" Their noses were only inches apart, and still no spectators; though they wouldn't be able to see them in the darkness.

"No," Kurama nuzzled him, "I've always noticed the way that your eyes undress me."

"Fine," Yusuke murmured, giving in and pressing his lips forward. The kiss was languid and paranoid at first, then developed into an absorbed embrace of twisting tongues and pursed mouths. Hands entwined with red hair, and pushed their mouths only deeper into each other. Another congratulatory siren went off, and it scared them, pulling them apart to face each other with blushing expressions and swollen lips.

"Come home with me," Yusuke requested, intensively fingering silken strawberry strands in soft strokes. Kurama consented to the invitation, consciously creating a scenario within his mind of how the night could end up. He would not longer be that 'dull boy'.

They left the arcade promptly, walking in a fast pace that didn't quite suit them. They were growing impatient, and as Yusuke had done with Hiei, he took hold of Kurama at his wrist and tugged them into a full fled superhuman run. Slowing upon their arrival at Yusuke's building, they jogged up the three flights of stairs and stopped for a slight breath before opening the door; using the time to test and see whether or not they would be alone.

All other dwellings were dead, aside from the Urameshi one. There was quite a raucous inside, and Yusuke held the handle of the door tentatively, leaning one ear in to listen in on just _what_ he had returned to. Before Yusuke knew exactly why, his ally had leapt forward in an attempt to open the door; only to be stopped by the open-faced palm signal to halt. Seconds later, the door was hit with a thud and the sound of glass breaking predictably accompanied it.

"Yusuke!" Kurama whispered, realizing the urgency to stay quiet, "We have to go in there!"

The detective slid away from the door and onto the wall, out of the way from where a yakuza member would most likely see him if they were to exit. His body had become a stiff stick. He listened on, struggling with the horrid memories that plagued him each and every time his mother was in situations like this. Sometimes he even wondered if one of those foul gangsters was his father.

It wasn't until Kurama touched his moistened cheek that he realized that tears had welled up in his eyes. Leaving his hand there, the fox-demon inquired, "Yusuke? What's going on? Shouldn't we help her?" The yakuza were no match for the two of them, not even one of them. So why was it that the boy was immobile; as if he were shackled to the building itself?

"No, and no," he uttered, "She's fine…she's their bitch. She won't remember the bruises." _Because the bruises and booze is what makes her forget,_ he thought.

"_Yusuke,_" Kurama scolded him, still maintaining his level to a whisper, "One day it might no be so safe and playful." It was a morbid and strikingly truthful warning. Another tear streaked down Yusuke's face as he came up with yet another excuse.

"She's…" Kurama wiped away yet another tear; "She's always in danger. No one can know about my powers. If I jump in now, who knows how they'll retaliate. I can't…I can't protect her every second of every day. And Koenma…" Laughter, a shriek, and the tumbling of loud furniture interrupted him. He clenched a fist, and uttered, "Damn it…"

"Koenma will allow it," Kurama assured him, pressing close into and consoling embrace, "He has to. Your mother is already aware of the supernatural since you had returned to life, correct?" He brought the boy's head in closer to the nape of his neck; "You need not worry of the cosmic laws, Yusuke. Genkai could surely keep watch over your mother."

"You can't teach an old dog new tricks, Kurama," Yusuke remarked, muffled by the locks of Kurama's hair. His mother would never conform to such a lifestyle in a secluded psychic's compound. It would also just place Atsuko in danger with more terrible beings.

Within the teen's trembling, Kurama was able to discover more about Yusuke's past than he would have just by observing him in his normal, chaotically brash state. Yusuke Urameshi was a good son; one that cared for his mother much more than anyone gave him credit for. Shuichi Minamino…he was nothing compared to this Yusuke; this bright light that protected the weak yet asked for nothing. He asked not for his father, his life, his second chance, his home, nor his scars. He asked not for Kurama's pity and comfort.

"You can let me go now," Yusuke stated flatly.

The fox let his arms fall to his sides, breathing sullenly. What were they to do now? The situation was awkward and aching. Their romantic affair was on hold; it would have been inappropriate for them to continue at another location. Kurama speculated just where they _would_ go now. Would they part ways, and if so, where would Yusuke go? He would not allow the boy to just enter his home with no one at his side.

"I need to get something," Yusuke informed him. He wanted his sketch book if he was going to stay at Kuwabara's for a few days again. He knew that entering would either do nothing, anger him, or cause the men inside to eyeball Kurama; unable to discern whether or not he was a female, but not caring anyway. He opted to just go ahead and enter anyway, telling Kurama to wait outside and out of sight. He assured him, "I'll be right back," and entered, shutting the door behind him.

The apartment was a pigsty. His mother was on the couch, laughing hysterically from the two men she was sandwiched between. There was another man attempting to prepare a meal on the kitchen counter; a waterfall of rice spilling over the edges; one man at the table, smoking as if there would be no tomorrow, and two on the balcony.

He took care not to step on the broken glass, decidedly leaving his shoes on, and casually walked towards his bedroom, hoping the yakuza would not notice him. He wanted in and out of there as soon as possible; the place was giving off a stench reminiscent of booze brewed in an ashtray, and it burned his nostrils; retching his stomach as he continued his journey to his bedroom.

Luckily, he had made it to the room, but not unnoticed. He reached for a dusty bookbag beneath his bed, and then opened his closet in order to empty it of its artistic contents. Once his sketch book, pencils, and eraser were inside his bookbag, he shut the closet and tried to think of something else he would need. Nothing.

Yusuke focused, letting warmth, light, and aura flood to his fingertip. He secured his bag over his shoulder, and opened the door; preparing to clear the way with a light release from his Spirit Gun if need be. They wouldn't be able to see the slight green glow, and the distance wouldn't bring any attention to him. The louts would probably believe that they had stumbled in their drunken stupor.

The men were still in their previous locations, turning their heads only slightly to acknowledge the kid's presence. They were not irate nor aroused enough to trouble him, and Yusuke escaped unscathed, and right into Kurama's arms once he had closed the apartment behind him. They cradled each other for a moment, stroking channels down the other's back, rekindling the restless desire to devour each other.

* * *

Author's Note

A shorter chapter than Chapter One. I just couldn't pump in more without going into the next chapter.

On my plate, aside from Chapter Three, will be Chapter 4 of The Seibu Project, Chapter 7 of Mischief 101, Chapter 3 in both Awake and Hiei's Textbook Dates, and possibly the fifth installment of _The Candy Series_, a Yusuke pairing fic entitled Candy Cigarettes. Please check my website or my story status link in my bio for important information regarding my Yusuke-Kurama fic Alternate Universe.

Fan-Arts always appreciated - especially if someone wants to mimic the drawings in Yusuke's sketch book!

Zelia


	3. Act III: Colloquy

**Disclaimer:** _Yu Yu Hakusho_ © Yoshihiro Togashi

* * *

****

Sketch Me

By Zelia Theb

Act III: Colloquy

Kuwabara had not been surprised, once again, when Yusuke appeared at his door. However, he _was_ surprised to see that this time Kurama accompanied him, and that their ally was clad in skin-tight pants. It had been the last straw for him; he had to know why Urameshi was constantly coming over to his house. At the least, he knew that Kurama probably wouldn't stay, as he had a home of his own; although it was curious to the tall boy as to why a demon had followed the other teen these last two times. Something that required a demon's protection, perhaps? Had it something to do with the yakuza that he had seen at Urameshi's home once or twice?

He left the two boys in his bedroom as he retrieved snacks and tea from the kitchen. Kuwabara wasn't all that unrefined, and was quite the hospitable host. His sister on the other hand…well, she was laughing it up with Yusuke while ogling at Kurama. She didn't have a thing for either of them, really. They were far too young if even it were only a few years. She had always enjoyed Yusuke's personality; because it so often mirrored her own; although mainly she maintained the bleak outlook of Hiei. Kurama was just attractive; eye candy.

"Well, you boys can stay here as long as you want," Shizuru offered, exhaling a cloud of smoke from her cigarette, "I'll bring up the extra futons for ya at about nine or so."

"I'm afraid I won't be staying, but thank you," Kurama said from his seat on Kuwabara's bed, "I was just spending some time with Yusuke and will have to head home before then so that my mother will not worry."

"'Kay kid," Shizuru remarked with a wave, "I'll be downstairs if you guys need anything, though I guess my baby bro is already getting you some snacks."

"Thanks, Shizuru," Yusuke called out. The girl returned a welcoming smile, and then shut the door behind her as she left.

The second they knew that the footsteps would not return unexpectedly, their gazes shifted to each other, communicating that they had but a moment alone for some intimacy; even if the kiss would be a rude walk-in for their host. Kurama stood, pacing slowly over to his object of affection, and noted, "It's amusing, Yusuke. Normally you say exactly what is on your mind, but right now you are rather silent." The come-on was strong. The redhead stopped inches before Yusuke's chest, and took hold of the boy at his hips, and pulled their pelvises together.

Forgetting the tears that had transpired only thirty minutes earlier, Yusuke smirked, and inquired, "Do I really have to say what I want right now?" Kurama shook his head ever so slightly to and fro, indicating that he had only really asked as a means to get closer. They kissed once more, much deeper than the one they had shared at the arcade, melding their bodies together in order to let their tongues penetrate deeper. The soft plodding of ascending feet pulled them apart; they had not wished to vocalize their affection to Kuwabara.

"Okay, Urameshi!" Kuwabara exclaimed loudly, a contrast to the way that he gently set the tray of snacks and green tea down upon a night table, "It's high time ya told me why you come over here all the time! And I ain't takin' no lame excuses, got it?"

Facial muscles twitched within the Spirit Detective then. How dare Kuwabara speak to him like that! Although, it was about time that he gave some sort of explanation for crashing his house all the time.

"Fine!" Yusuke shouted back, beginning another one of their lavishly loud discussions, "It's because my mom wants to have all her little gang buddies over and I need to repress the urge to smack the shit out of them!"

"Well, gee, Urameshi!" Kuwabara roared in return, "It'd be nice if ya said something once in a while! Ya know we all got probs that we gotta take care of, but sometimes ya gotta tell your friends and let 'em help ya!" Sometimes, Yusuke really pissed him off. He could be selfish, egotistical, and cocky at times, but overall, he hardly ever thought of his own well-being and constantly was taking care of others; even if it annoyed the stuff out of him.

"I don't need help, Kuwabara!"

Kurama had begun laughing at this point. At times he often wondered; as so many have before; if the two friends were married in a previous lifetime. Plus, it was plainly obvious that Yusuke was currently being aided by the psychic teen.

"Gah!" Kuwabara let out in aggravation, pouncing upon the brown-eyed boy in an attempt to wrestle their frustrations out. All three of them knew that Yusuke was lying, and the fighters, along with their single spectator, had eventually burst into laughter, and collapsed upon the ground until they settled down.

Wiping tears of laughter that had squeezed out from the overuse of his facial muscles, Kuwabara eventually settled down, and calmly asked Yusuke, "So why haven't you gone to Keiko's? I mean, I'm happy that we can hang out and all, but she's kinda like your caretaker, ya know?"

"We got in a fight," Yusuke exhaled, trying to regain his breath from their giggle-fest. He let his back fall upon the sides of Kuwabara's mattress, having collapsed only inches away from Kurama.

"You guys are always fightin'," Kuwabara noted, resting on his palms, "What about this time? Ditch her again?"

"Kinda," Yusuke explained, "I guess she thought I was going to meet her at some stupid foreign art film, which was kinda lame because it was like charging me for a side of mushrooms I never asked for." Kurama listened intently; as he needed to decide how long he would be able to wallow within Yusuke's skin before he eventually returned to Keiko. The fox knew that it was just a phase for the boy; so he had to enjoy it while he could. Perhaps there was even a possibility that he could let Yusuke forget the brunette and be exclusive to him.

"Yeah, she kinda does that a lot," his classmate agreed, rubbing his chin before resting upon his hand again, "No offense or anythin', Urameshi. It's just somethin' I noticed with you guys in school."

"Yeah, well," Yusuke went on with the story, "So she busted into my house, and then started yelling at me. I expected it and all, but I was getting pretty pissed off because I was in the middle of something and she just thought that I would drop everything for her like always." His two friends nodded, indicating that they were paying attention; "So I kinda lost it and told her to fuck off because she was a prissy bitch."

"That mouth of yours is seriously getting you into some deep stuff, man," said Kuwabara. Kurama could not help but smile in agreement; because he had taken the statement as a double-entendre. Kuwabara had taken the gesture as a sign that Kurama too had thought that Yusuke had quite the smart-mouth, and he went on to offer advice to Yusuke, suggesting, "Well, maybe you should ask her if she wants to go on a picnic or somethin'."

"That's just it, Kuwabara," Yusuke interjected, "If _she_ wants to go on a picnic. I'll prolly do that…" The words stung Kurama like a poisonous insect; "…But I might just ask her to do something that I wanna do instead and see how she likes it."

"Well, whatever," Kuwabara sighed, "Just throwin' it out there."

"Speakin' of throwin' stuff out," Yusuke mused, the thought of Youko Kurama's days perking in his head, "Kurama? What did you do with all the stuff you took as Youko? Is it all stashed away in some hoard that no one knows about?"

"Yeah, Kurama! That'd be kinda cool!" Kuwabara declared excitedly, "You'd be like that pirate who had some hidden death island that only one person had the map to! People would look for his gold for years and years but they'd never find it even though they knew it was there somewhere."

Kurama held to fingers to his lips as he chuckled. He had never thought of his legend in such a childlike and innocent manner. He replied, "I suppose that I would be the only map to my hoard, yes. Who knows if some demon has already stumbled upon it by accident. Surely the hunter who bested me back then would be capable of such."

"Oh yeah!" Yusuke remarked very audibly, propping himself upon his knees from his rear, "That guy's gotta be pretty wicked strong if he was able to catch _you_, Kurama. Maybe he found all your stuff and is sitting on a throne of gold coins with barely dressed belly dancing servants."

They all laughed at the whimsical idea, although only Kurama could recall the face of the hunter. He stated, "Perhaps, though I suspect that he would have sold it for a high price. He was a bounty hunter, after all. I wonder what he would do if he discovered that I was still alive? Would he fear that I would seek revenge or just try and get me again?"

Uneasiness blanketed the other two. Revenge? Kurama picked up on the tension, and put their minds at ease by assuring them with a wave of his hand, "Oh, don't worry. I am not _that_ ruthless. Had it not been for him, I suppose I would have never met my mother or all of you. Well, perhaps we might have crossed paths on opposite sides."

"You're too morbid, Kurama," stated Yusuke flatly. Kuwabara nodded with a huff and crossed arms.

"Oh, don't be so harsh!" the demon grinned, "I would gladly offer him those riches in payment for leading me to all of you. There aren't enough treasures in any of the worlds that could fully repair the debt." The silence maintained itself for a moment, broken by the sudden stranglehold that Yusuke had placed upon his shoulders.

"Oh, you're as mushy as miso paste!" Yusuke joked as he embraced him. Kurama's cheeks became painted with a rosy blush, both from the affectionate embrace, embarrassment, and the lack of breath. He protested for the boy to let him go, and then informed the room that he would have to take leave and return home to Shiori. The boys sighed, as it was an end to what seemed to develop into a very normal teenage hang-out session, and walked him down the stairs to Kuwabara's front door.

It was rather peculiar to Kuwabara, who had become quite perceptive from the influence of both Shizuru and Kurama, the way in which Yusuke said farewell to the redhead. The manner in which the detective's hand lay upon Kurama's broad shoulder was entirely normal and friendly, however, the slight and seemingly unnoticeable folds in the fabric of Kurama's shirt suggested that Yusuke's fingers were performing much more than just a casual caress. It was…weird, but Kuwabara felt no need to mention it. He preferred to sit back and stay out of this one. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him anyway.

* * *

Yusuke had spent most of his time at school on the roof, as usual. Keiko still wasn't speaking to him, so he had no worries about sketching alone. He was rather proud of his latest pencil masterpiece; it was neither crude nor explicit, and it fulfilled none of his personal desires at all, whatsoever. It had taken him a full four days to work on it, not counting the time that he spent at Kuwabara's since he did not wish to be harassed by him to look at it, nor reveal the content of the picture. 

It was relatively quiet back as his apartment. Removing his shoes, he found yet more loving letters from his mother upon the surface of the kitchen table, held down by a paperweight; otherwise known as an empty liquor bottle. The first read:

"Yusuke. You better be home to read this! I'm out at Juniper's with friends for the night. You better be here when I get back! And you better go to school! Love, Mom."

It was comforting to know she was mildly worried. The second read:

"Yusuke. Where the hell are you? Keiko was looking for you. There's dinner in the fridge. Be back tonight. You better be home! Love, Mom."

"Oh, Mom," Yusuke pondered aloud, "Where the hell are you, and why did you hide the cigarettes?" He sighed, trudging on toward his bedroom. It was shaded; there was no sunlight; only a grayscale comic book tone in the room. The deep rumble of distant thunder penetrated his ears. He sighed again in anticipation of the gloomy day, and began putting his bookbag and sketch book away. He stopped though, remembering to remove his latest work from the pad, and then continued, leaving the single paper upon the blankets of his bed.

He noticed that the light had gotten much dimmer, like something was blocking the window. Sure enough, as to his suspicion, Hiei was waiting there impatiently, his black cloak flapping from the rough winds of the impending storm. Yusuke quickly unlocked the window and let him in, then shut it to prevent the wind from tearing his work from the bed.

"Tell me why, Detective!" asked Hiei the moment he set foot upon the floor.

"Why what?" Yusuke asked with a high tone, his voice nearly cracking. He should have listened to himself; his actions would forever change the dynamic of the team.

"Hn. Don't be coy with me. You know what I am asking. I demand to know!" Hiei was threatening, angry, and confused. This was his first time having tread such dangerous and unknown deep waters; and he felt himself drowning.

"If you _mean_ what I think you do," Yusuke growled, "Then I _believe_ we already _talked_ about that."

"No. Why me when you have _her_."

"Fine, I'll compare you two if you really want," Yusuke concurred scathingly, "Let's see…oh no, _wait_, I don't even _have_ to think about this. Number one. Keiko's family is perfect. They own a restaurant. If we got married, I'd be a Yukimura. Damn, how _nice_."

"Had I slain you then I wouldn't have to listen to this," the demon recalled. It wasn't unlike him to get to the point, only to get agitated when the point was aimed straight for his chest.

"I'm not saying you aren't perfect, Hiei…" the detective said regretfully.

"You don't _have_ to, Detective."

"Ooh. Pulling out all of the 'Detectives' now. Big deal." Yusuke reached for Hiei's wrist, nearly wrenching it when Hiei tried pulling away. Lush eyelashes fluttered, and Yusuke could no longer tread the waters with Hiei; his ankles were being pulled by the undertow.

"Because I like you," Yusuke breathed in confession, "I don't know where I am going right now, and I don't-"

"Save it," came the harsh interruption, "I don't need to hear about how I am just an experiment for you. You could be seeing that oaf or even the _fox_ for all I know."

Yusuke let out a pang of guilt; "You don't." In his literal heat, he had become selfish and obsessed with acting out his fantasies. He took the fact that both Hiei and Kurama were attracted to him for granted; but he crushed those petals beneath his feet like grass. In his silent thoughts, he unconsciously continued his lead-on by pulling the captured wrist into the embrace of caressing fingers.

"Will you ever explain why _me_?" Yusuke suddenly queried. The bantam muscled hem of Hiei's arm flinched. Whether it was from the sudden burst of rain wreaking havoc on his window panes or the question was the mystery.

"I don't like you, Yusuke," he denied.

"That just isn't true," was the reply. Yusuke could not resist the temptation to console Hiei; to hold him; to kiss him. He could deal with the consequences at a later point in time. The spark to ignite something deep; something both emotionally and physically satisfying; was flayed off of the rocky turbulence of their meeting. Lithe forms met and forgiving velvet lips gently graced each other. It _could_ have been more; it could have been a marvel of a meeting; however…

There was always a however when it came to Hiei.

The demon pulled away in hopes to properly forgive the boy when he took note of the drawing that lay open on the bed. It was anything but ugly, yet simultaneously it was the epitome of anxiety; the personification of sadness.

"How…could you…" Hiei uttered, snatching the work from the bed and examining it. He had never cried, so would not know how to stop himself if the feeling to emerged. He noticed _something_…something which echoed in his heart and threatened to suffocate him if he refused to breath. _Something_ that crushed his throat without remorse; something that let him taste the broken bones in his trachea. His eyes hurt; and if he breathed…oh if he had taken _just one breath_…he might have known the feeling.

Yukina…she was a precious porcelain treasure. A gem among dirt. He often thought of how unusual it was to find someone so kind and endearing among demons; even the callous race of Ice Maidens. It was only natural that he were the exact opposite; that _he_ balance out the equation. So in light of that, Hiei was constantly trying to maintain the negative. Fighting any inkling inside that said, "_You are her brother. You are the same_."

Yusuke…how dare he reiterate those statements. Yukina did not deserve such a false brotherly embrace from _he_. He did not deserve the smile bestowed upon him from the lights of heaven; the divine care and love of a sibling.

"_How could you do this!_" Hiei yelled at Yusuke, displaying the sketch to the artist before rolling it up into a scroll over the other works he had mistakenly left behind in the room. Yusuke did not respond; he didn't understand how he had offended Hiei. All he knew was that Hiei was gone; having concealed the works under his cloak to protect them from the storm. The only thing Yusuke was left with was a few missing pages and a wet windowsill.

When night fell and he could not longer stand the rain, Hiei fled to the Minamino residence; tracking his boots up the beige earth of the home's outer wall and taking grip onto the ledge of the window sill. His fingertips nearly slipped had they not been caught by the friendly outstretched gesture of Kurama. No later was he pulled; dripping with rain water; into the redhead's lightless human bedroom.

"You seek shelter here?" Kurama asked him, "But why?" He was inferring as to why he would not stay with Yusuke; with full knowledge that his affection may be involved with the demon. However, Hiei did not know of Yusuke's affair with the fox, and merely stated that he could not stand the annoyance of Kuwabara.

Hiei unloaded the contents of his cloak and set the works on Kurama's desk before migrating back to the moistened edge of the windowsill. He closed his eyes without words and let his head rest upon the cold pane of glass, listening to the raindrops and clashes of thunder. It was difficult to fall into a slumber there; and Kurama noticed it; mostly because Hiei was desperately trying to balance himself on the small ledge.

"It's too small," Kurama finally pointed out, knowing that Hiei would become aggravated, "We will have to share the bed."

An annoyed grunt was uttered from the narrow ledge, and Hiei removed himself from his chilled rest to Kurama's bed; waiting impatiently like a child would for its mother for him to command him to lay down.

"You're annoying, Kurama," Hiei remarked coldly.

"Take that wet cloak off and lay down," the redhead directed him, "If you wanted to sleep in puddles, you would have stayed outside, yes?" They stared each other down; but eventually Kurama won him over, and Hiei obediently removed the over-dampened cloak and handed it to Kurama, then occupied nearly most of the bed in an attempt to further disturb his friend.

Kurama draped the wet apparel over the back of the neatly tucked chair beneath his desk, and his fox-like curiosity gained the best of him as he unraveled Hiei's scrolls. Never before had he seen such talent with pencil and paper; and a school of questions swam into Kurama's mind. Most of them were answered when he noticed the signature in the corner; Urameshi.

"You were with Yusuke," he stated as he set them back down. He wanted to know for sure if Hiei's scent on the detective's skin was just an illusion, or if there was a light to dissipate the fog of the 'what if'.

As Kurama nudged next to him; tucking both of them in properly; Hiei riposted with, "You can assume that if you want."

"It isn't an assumption," Kurama rolled over to face Hiei, "He signed the pictures; which are beautifully drawn, might I add."

"Whatever." Hiei turned his back to his ally; conforming with the small space and curling his legs up to his stomach.

"Did you leave because you love Yukina?" Silence. If only the fox would shut up, then perhaps he might be able to sleep the events of the day away.

"Don't you love your sister, Hiei?" Kurama prodded on, poking Hiei's shoulder in a near suicidal attempt to gain his attention. Hiei reacted with a violent retraction of his arm, hoping to but not succeeding in smacking Kurama with his shoulder blade.

"I'll take that as a yes, it is usually what your silence means," said the fox. Hiei rolled over and glared at him, further affirming it.

Hiei sneered, "You already knew that, idiot," before quickly shutting his eyes again.

The colloquy of two comrades; the conversation was simply brilliant.

"Yusuke upset you, didn't he?" Kurama continued with his incessant questions. It wasn't jealously nor rivalry that instigated them; no. It was guilt. If Hiei was _indeed_ involved with Yusuke…then Kurama would have to step down. Hiei had acquired the boy's attention first, and Hiei was most in need of the affection.

"We aren't talking about this," Hiei muttered.

_"Do you love him?"_ The question escaped his lips before he could have time to conquer it with his own answer; he was unprepared for the response.

The silent reopening of Hiei's eyes and stale movement of Hiei's mouth was the reply. Nothing.

"I am a terrible friend," Kurama whispered as he closed his own eyes. Hiei's ears perked up on the declaration. Between the detective's unassuring answer of experimentation earlier, and Kurama's insinuation, his thoughts were tossed into a maelstrom of chaos.

"Kurama," Hiei said in the same whisper. He pressed a finger into his friend's chest and asked, "Why?"

Slowly Kurama looked at Hiei, and smiled, stating, "So you do think of me as a friend." Hiei glanced away quickly in embarrassment, but returned the gaze as Kurama explained, "I just am. Please do not allow me to annoy you with my concerns, but I would like to know why."

"Hn. I don't know." The question of whether or not this was some foul joke played on the triad by Koenma entered his mind; but Hiei could not come up with the proper hallucinogen in his mental Demon World catalogue. On that notion, he added, "He does things to me."

"Naughty things?" the fox giggled.

"Not yet," Hiei half-chuckled, becoming more comfortable than he cared to be, "You saw them." 'Them' referring to the drawings.

"He conveys the truth, Hiei," Kurama murmured, "That is how you are. You shouldn't be angry with him." _Him_. He was so intoxicated by _him_. Even now, the fragrance of the boy still stained Hiei's skin, despite the storm's vain efforts to cleanse it from him.

"The girl-"

"Stop, Hiei," Kurama interjected, "Keiko should be of no concern. I know that we have both seen several instances of his loyalty to her, but you have to consider that perhaps there are other opportunities." Kurama sighed; emotion heavy on his chest; "Do not deny yourself this chance." In an incredibly demonic motion, the fox finished with, "We will surely outlive her. With Yusuke's seeming immortality and deep connection to the Spirit World, I can not imagine Koenma allowing him to die and rest eternally once his human life is over."

"He's not like you," Hiei answered, "You have a demon body to return to."

"You never know with Yusuke, Hiei."

To Be Continued…

* * *

Author's Note

If you view this website with Unicode character encoding, then please view my argument of why **Hiei is _not_ a koorime **by clicking my bio. Then, proceed to spread the word. Because I am growing rather weary of general abuses and misuses of other cultures and languages. Thank you!

Aside from that sort of pompous and negative note, thank you for your continued support of this work. Please do me a favor and don't leave one-liners in the reviews!

I hope this cleared up the confusion of the pairings…(actually, I hope it added to it! -evil grin-). Please patiently await the next installment of Sketch Me. I probably won't update this story again until after my birthday (May 25th…today is the 8th).

ズィリア


	4. Act IV: Deluge

Interesting tidbit: Red hair _does_ occur naturally in Asian genetics (for those who might wonder how Kurama and Kuwabara keep up with their roots). There is a documented case of a girl taking her ex-school teacher to court because the teacher would constantly harass them to dye their naturally reddish hair black. If you do a search, you will find this article.

**Disclaimer:**_Yu Yu Hakusho_ © Yoshihiro Togashi

**

* * *

Sketch Me**

By Zelia Theb

Act IV: Deluge

Two nights of tumultuous storm had passed, giving permission for the sun to shine and bless Japan with fair weather for good day of baseball. Kuwabara, sensing that something was amiss with his friend, invited Yusuke to accompany him to the park. His neighbor's son was playing a little league game, and the young Saiki adored Kazuma to no end.

So Kuwabara came to the game willingly, sporting jeans and a red tee. Resting upon his ruffled rings of hair was a cap; carefully crafted by young Saiki to include the team's logo; a wing for the Falcons. Yusuke had a bit of trouble finding something red to wear, so opted for a white shirt with red lettering on the chest. It wasn't much, but inwardly Yusuke adored children, and found it rather 'kick-ass' that there was a baseball game to watch that day.

The field was dusty and littered with youth. The two boys were seated at the top of the bleachers behind the fence guarding home-plate, eating hot dogs and drinking caramel colored carbonation in support of the league. Saiki had just been up to the plate, and with an amazing hit managed to make it to second base, sending the previous batter around home. And this was just in the first five minutes of play!

"Man, that kid's amazing for his age," Yusuke remarked, sipping at his pop. The fizzling liquid licked at his nose recklessly, causing it to ripen with wrinkles. _Hiei would look so cute drinking pop_, he thought. It was too bad that he wasn't there.

"YEAH! Saiki!" Kuwabara yelled, standing with his treats elevated in the air, "You can make it!" Moments later, Saiki; followed by a fellow Falcon; rounded home-plate. The ball was thrown to fourth a second too late.

"Safe!" called the umpire.

After a moment of cheering with his team mates, the young boys settled down to support their next member at plate. Saiki turned around, hoping to see the hoarse voice that he had heard earlier, and smiled as he caught Kazuma's eye. Kuwabara gave him an energetic thumbs up before sitting back down, only to get the most unusual of feelings again.

"Urameshi…" he muttered with paranoia, "I think somethin' is behind us."

An expression of confusion fell to teen's face; freely erased when he turned to discover that Hiei was watching them from afar. Yusuke waved to him, beckoning the cloaked apparition to join them, and soon Hiei did; much against his inner temptations to ignore him and keep walking.

The fire demon was still upset with Yusuke, but with much coaxing on Kurama's behalf, was able to admit that perhaps the boy really meant no harm with his work. He had questioned his feelings for the detective during the stormy nights in the fox's bed, wondering why someone such as himself needed no love to survive; yet desired so much to care for others. Was it in his nature? He was certain that his mother; while she was careless and irresponsible for allowing him to be born; did hold this trait to nurture. His father was an unknown and hereby non-existent creature; but surely to bestow such a great beauty as Yukina upon the Koorime; he must be giving by nature. Then again; suppose that he was still alive? He was just another dead-beat father.

"Hiei! Ever see a baseball game before?"

"No."

"Sit with us," Yusuke requested. Pointing to Hiei's dark cloak, he suggested, "You might wanna take that off." Hiei complied with ease, surprising Kuwabara on more than one tier.

"What is this," stated the demon with curiosity. To him, it appeared as if it was just a large scale game of 'keep away', much like the game of fetch played between dog and master. He supposed that he could see how it would be entertaining, but these were young children. His comrades really _were_ idiots.

"Well, we're rootin' for the red team, the Falcons," Kuwabara started, pointing to the 'dug-out' bench, "That kid's my neighbor and he's pretty good so don't make him feel bad!"

Yusuke's nose scrunched again; "Want some, Hiei?"

"Hn?"

The boy held out the aluminum can like a peace offering, and explained, "It's pop. It's good. You'll like it."

"How do _you_ know that I'll like it, Detective?" Hiei inquired, inferring that Yusuke in fact, did not know much about Hiei's tastes. Yusuke did not waiver; deciding to delicately hand the demon the drink in hopes of obtaining the predetermined and adorable reaction.

The detective received said reaction, and stifled the need to giggle like a girl while Hiei swallowed. The demon was pleased with the taste; it was sweet, smooth, and suave; while at the same time jagged and tear-jerking. He wanted more, but sharing the boy's beverage would be more than just a bright flag waved in Kuwabara's direction.

"Was I right?" the delinquent teen asked.

"Yes," Hiei replied, much to the eavesdropping oaf's surprise, "You were, Yusuke."

"I got some money left," Yusuke remarked, standing from his place on the bleachers, "Let's go get ya one." He leapt down from the metal risers to the earth below, waving Hiei down and announcing, "We'll be right back, Kuwabara!"

"'Kay!" he shouted mid-cheer, happy that he wasn't going to be stuck with Hiei.

The snack stand was small and slim; spanning no more than the length of a luxury bed. The queue was relatively short; as the quiet yet physically enthusiastic girls running the stand had an efficient system and worked with diligence.

"Hi ladies!" Yusuke announced as they stepped to the front of the line. The girls melted as he beamed them a mischievous smile; obviously unaware of his reputation at school.

"Oh! He wasn't with you earlier!" the shorter of the two exclaimed, "What's his name?"

Hiei flinched as Yusuke introduced him; "Him? That's Hiei."

"Oh!" she said again, "Look, Rei!" The shorter retrieved the taller and whispered something that sent them into tiny giggles, then came back to the counter slowly; since the boy had no one behind him in line.

"Nice to meet you, Hiei!" Rei smiled with a nervous wave, "What can Ami and I get for you today?"

Unfortunately, Hiei had no idea just what he had been drinking, and only realized this as he opened his mouth to answer. Thankfully Yusuke covered for him, otherwise he would have to sleep on the fact that he nearly spoke to a harmless human.

The stands were in an uproar as they meandered back, and Hiei wasn't really up to surrounding himself by the stench of sweat-soaked humans. Instead he directed himself behind the bleachers; out of sight from those who cared about the game; and rested against the bark of a tree. Yusuke quickly caught up to him, caring not for Kuwabara for instead for the thoughts of Hiei.

As he approached the demon; whose ankles were standing in strands of grass, he remembered the night that had angered him so. He truly had no right to depict the estranged siblings in such a manner, but he had no explanation for mysterious muse that coaxed him to create the work. The only notion that he had come up with was that he genuinely wanted to see Hiei happy.

With an awkward opening, Yusuke broke into the matter with, "Didn't think I'd see ya 'till the next mission."

Hiei's response was delayed as he pondered the many ways of opening the can. It wasn't until Yusuke showed him the lever mechanics of the aluminum tab that he spoke.

"Hn," said Hiei, sipping the soda, "The fox is a persuasive bastard."

The fox…the words recovered the tantalizing image of leather and lust. But what was Kurama up to? Was he backing down, allowing Yusuke and Hiei to pursue something far more meaningful than a few sensuous eruptions? Maybe the redhead felt guilty from his come-ons.

On the other hand, Hiei still had no idea of the affair between the school boys. He knew of just one obstacle; Keiko; and also knew through his peerings with the Jagan Eye that she and Yusuke neglected to speak of their trivial relationship.

Saiki was up to bat again. Kazuma could no longer stay in his seat from the sheer excitement of his 'little buddy' doing so well, but was growing rather lonely in the fan-stands. He could swear that the line had died down, but he checked up on it anyway.

Rei and her petite friend were lazily watching the game; their chins propped up by elbows on the counter. Random unseated supporters stood steadily near the shack, cheering for their children and friends. However, Urameshi and Hamster Legs were no where to be found. A quick scan of the empty park behind him proved to be successful; and as his sights adjusted to just what they were doing he soon discovered their treasured secret.

In one hand Yusuke held his pop, and in the other the tough skin of the tree next to Hiei's ear. They were muttering to each other, glancing away and avoiding the other's gaze like it was an argument. It fell short when Hiei roughly ran his hand to Yusuke's collar, and pulled him so close that Kuwabara could barely register the occurrence between the comrades. Their eyes were closed, their heads were tilted, and their lips were touching.

Impossible!

In public?

Absolutely.

But who had initiated the kiss? It was Hiei, that was apparent. Maybe he was just seeing things, as a result of his over-excitement for the little league game.

So when Yusuke finally returned, he didn't speak at all about what he had seen, merely relying on the question, "Where did Hiei go?"

"Oh," Yusuke half-lied, not desiring to describe the events that had just occurred, "He didn't feel like coming back, so decided to nap in a tree somewhere in the park."

"I see," said Kuwabara, scratching at his chin. Between hits and the change of players from the dug-out and field, he pondered the peculiar action further.

The kiss was indeed an indication of emotion with regards to Hiei, but the inquiry remained; how did Yusuke feel about it all? The detective was seemingly unaware that his friend had seen them, and sat stoically, eyes striding with the players on the home-stretch.

By no means would Kuwabara respect his friend any less if what happened truly _did_ happen, but it undeniably would reconfigure his outlook of him. He had only known Yusuke to be a perverted person; a rebellious loud-mouth with an itch to cause problems and procreate with mischief and madness. However; the boy would _never_ in his right mind cheat on Keiko, correct? Coincidentally, the two _were_ engrossed in a collaborative clash; caused by their ability to constantly misunderstand each other.

In a corner of his mind, where the orange curls planted their roots and the whimsical thoughts of Yukina ran amok, lay the doubt of Yusuke's sexuality in his mind. While outwardly heterosexual, the boy had been known to flirt between he and the others on missions and random get-togethers. Not only that, but he was _certain_ by no misjudgement that Yusuke _had_ kissed him before; and despite the fact that it was because he most likely was desperate to live again…

…Well. In the dream, Yusuke had no resolve. He got to the point, and went through with the lip-lock. There was no hesitation, no serious apology, and no uncomfortable feelings or awkwardness.

A maelstrom of curiosity swelled deep within that corner; drowning the tree's roots and destroying the doubts with its dangerous undertow. Kuwabara _had_ to know! And he would enlist the expertise of Kurama to assist him.

* * *

Kurama just about had it with school. Why on Earth had he decided to maintain the polite-boy façade? It was clear that these taunting boys were only jealous; perhaps even liked him; but enough was enough.

"Eh, Minamino! Why don't you cut that hair of yours?" a blonde taunter teased.

"Yeah!" chimed in his followers, encircling their leader and Kurama. It was well placed in the shadows of a rather unsupervised section of the fields behind the academy. Thankfully enough, or so Kurama thought, because he could not bare the thought of his mother raising a ruffian.

"Perhaps you shouldn't concern yourself with _my_ head as much as you should concern yourself with _yours_, Kino," replied Shuichi. The blonde boy twitched his face with anger, irritated that such a _dweeb_ had the gall to challenge him.

"Concern yourself with _this_!" declared Kino, lunging forward with a right hook. The redhead needed no demonic dexterity to dodge the daring punch, merely a pair of emerald clad eyes and the urgency not to feel pain.

"Damn it!" the bully cursed, lunging again. Shuichi quickly caught the fist in a clamp of his fingers, then used to grip to his advantage; bringing Kino downward and his own knee upwards into the blonde's solarplex(1).

After a fit of coughing to recover his air, Kino stood with the help of his mates, and exclaimed, "You just got lucky, Minamino!"

Much to his surprise, a familiar voice pervaded the air, and a friendly outstretched hand from said voice stopped Kino mid-attack, and announced, "You think so, huh punk?"

The maroon-clad gang turned one-eighty to clobber their newest victims; the intruders.

"Hey! That's Kuwabara! I wouldn't mess with him, man!"

"Look who's next to him! Ain't that Urameshi?"

"What the fuck, Minamino?" the vulgar Kino yelled, "Is this some sort of joke?"

"'Fraid not, assholes!" decreed the top-dog, easily flattening the high-class gang with Kazuma's assistance before they could make another step toward Kurama. When all was said and done, and the quintet had fled, Kurama stepped forward to scold them.

"You best hope that my mother hears no word of this."

Yusuke smiled and assured him, "No worries! They know what happens to tattlers anyway." The two dusted off their hands as Kuwabara explained the real reason for their visit.

"Urameshi's mom's not home so we're gonna go over there and watch some movies during dinner. Wanna come?" Kurama easily took the invitation, falling right into Kazuma's hands. His devious scheme to decipher Yusuke was working wonderfully.

After a pit-stop at the Minamino residence for a change of clothes and a request for permission, the trio trekked to the Urameshi home; which wasn't entirely tidy but luckily devoid of the scent of sake, brewed barley, and harsh hops.

"I'm starving," Yusuke whined after they removed their shoes. He made quick movements towards his bedroom, and called out, "So what does everyone wanna eat?"

Kuwabara offered, "I'll make us somethin' that my sister taught me how to make!"

Yusuke's head popped out from behind his door frame, taking a moment to eyeball Kurama and then quickly diverting back to Kuwabara; "Really?"

"Yup!" stated the tallest, "That is if ya guys don't mind chillin' without me for like fifteen or twenty minutes?"

"That's very thoughtful, Kuwabara," Kurama said, preparing to seat himself upon the sofa.

"I've got some movies in here, Kurama," Yusuke announced, directing the fox-demon to his bedroom. Yes! It was perfect! There was no doubt that Kurama would be able to discern what was occurring with Yusuke. Kuwabara would be able to pry on them with the reflective surface of a well-placed mirror; angled just perfectly so that it beamed straight through the boy's bedroom door. He straightened the counter a bit, setting aside a dying flower, and then wiped the surface down in preparation.

"We'll just watch this one," Yusuke said, tossing a dark covered cassette on his mattress, "It's "The Seibu Project", and it's good. Trust me."

"Yes," Kurama smirked, "I will. Now what is it that you want?"

The boy recalled what Hiei had said. That Kurama was a persuasive bastard. He inched closer to the beauty, and asked, "Why'd ya start up if ya didn't want to keep going?"

"Hmm?" was the smooth retort, "I had figured it best to keep Hiei at bay."

"But…" the detective protested. He was confused; vexed; tumultuous. As selfish as it was, he wanted to keep this experiment going. He desired to feel that touch he only dreamt of; to see that sexual gaze he only knew how to draw. Why was it that Kurama decided to control the situation? It was in his Minamino nature to conform, and much to Yusuke's dismay this was not how this situation needed to be handled. It needed to spin out of control until all those involved were disillusioned enough to do drastically devilish things. If this was just the cracked concrete of a dam waiting to burst, then that would be feasible. It could be repaired with simple masonry. However, this was a tumor; an insidious parasite that burrowed deep into Yusuke's body and refused to be cured with a deluge of medicine.

"No…" muttered the confused teen, grappling thin strands of hair between his fingers and placing uncertain lips onto Kurama. This was all that Kurama feared; all that Kurama had tried to avoid once the guilt had set in. It was his knowledge that he could so casually throw away the empty emotion with pure indifference, and quickly indulge in Yusuke's flesh at any given moment if given the opportunity.

If there was a term for being both confused and settled, then Kuwabara would have used it. What the _hell_ was Urameshi up to? And what was he going to do? With Hiei, he would expect death…but with Kurama…?

So he resorted to the only thing he could think of at that moment, and announced, "It's done, guys! Hope you got a good movie!" He waited for them to pull apart, observing every moment of shock on their face through the mirror as they composed themselves into the lie that it had never happened, and walked out of the bedroom carrying that confidence to fool Kuwabara once again.

How long had Kazuma been in the dark? Why was he always the odd-man out? Damn it if he knew. Oh, the angst. So his plan was a complete and utter failure. He would have to confront the callous boy himself if he wanted any answers; but really it was none of his business; and Urameshi would most definitely tell him to butt out of the situation all together.

The trio watched the movie, enjoying the recipe of the elder Kuwabara as the entrails of Hollywood demons eloped on screen. There was this dead tension that Kuwabara swore up and down in his mind that he was the only one hearing; it was like some sort of telepathic message from the others to leave the apartment and let them have their way with each other.

And then the incredibly novel idea of spending the night crept into his head with air-tight lifesavers. His brain would be saved from this savage deluge, no doubt! So he suggested, "Urameshi, should we spend the night?"

Yusuke was more than delighted with the idea…minus Kuwabara. It wasn't that he _detested_ him, it was more so because of Kurama. He wanted to _ravage_ him; to find reason in the portraits he was always compelled to draw. He had this carnal desire to lap at the sweat-sequined skin of the redhead; to see those sparkling liquid globes turn up in orgasmic pleasure…

"Kurama," Yusuke purred, "Would you stay too?"

Kurama replied quicker than a good boy should have; settling the threesome into the fact that they would be spending the night in Yusuke Urameshi's apartment.

It had grown warm; more like unbearably humid; since they had started dinner. Neglecting to be mindful of his mother's bills; assuming that the yakuza would 'pay' for it anyway; Atsuko's son quickly cranked on the air conditioning. It swept through the living area like a wintry frost, leaving it in a lake of tranquil chill, and giving them a comfortable place to sleep.

And once Yusuke was sure that the others were; in fact; sleeping, he crept into his silent sanctuary to sketch. The air had managed to cool the room off; dissipating Yusuke's anticipated fears of sweating all over his drawings.

Kurama had appeared just the opposite as Hiei had to him. He did not look innocent; but instead like a virgin just _waiting_ to be violated. The moon had cloaked the fox under the guise of a gem. Like coal giving birth to a diamond; the redhead's skin was a pallid crystalline slate, covered in dark charcoal shadows.

Yusuke had barely made a scratch with his pencil when Kurama soon joined him in the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. The boy smirked; thinking that it would be wasteful to draw when his muse wanted to _play_.

"And if Hiei's watching?" Kurama asked, having invaded much more than just Yusuke's space.

"Mmm…" Yusuke moaned, desiring not to dignify that with an answer.

Seconds sauntered by as they slipped their shirts off of their skin. The contact of their flesh was immediate, almost so fast that Yusuke forgot to take a look at just _who_ he was about to be intimate with.

"Gosh, Kurama," Yusuke murmured in his soon-to-be lover's ear, "I don't think I've _ever_ seen you without a shirt on." He took a moment to gaze at the taut chest, tracing trails with his finger and then landing on a perfectly sculpted pectoral. It was as if Kurama's chest was _made_ just to fit Yusuke's palms.

A slender alabaster scar stretched from the bottom loops of the fox's ribs to just left of his naval. It shined with a strangely pearlescent gleam, but where had it come from? Surely, it was a well known fact that Kurama had an affinity for getting injured in the stomach; whether it was a result of poor martial arts training or bad luck. Deep sienna lay there for far too long, leading Kurama to question, "What is it?"

"The scar," voiced Yusuke, fingering the satin texture of the marking. Goodness...if he were to trail just an inch or two lower...

"Hiei," Kurama explained, arching his back as Yusuke did just as he had thought, "It's a result of the sword's...effect..."

"Ahh." Yusuke began to nuzzle at the nape of the beau's neck, all the while pressing his fingers just below the waistline of his clothing. Anxious claws clasped tightly to the curves of Kurama's posterior; pulling them close enough to grind.

At first Kurama moved with the dance, mimicking each of Yusuke's steps with grace and accuracy, but then it dwindled when he realized that the _very good son_ was about to become a _very naughty boy_. Before Yusuke's libido fell, he clung to the chance that he could procure some sort of _reason_ for the teen's infidelity and queried, "And who will you eventually choose?"

"Uh, what?" said a somewhat stifled Yusuke.

"Yusuke," Shuichi remarked, bringing a soft and effeminate hand around the features of the boy's face, "Should we do...anything...I would wish no regrets."

"That's just it," replied Yusuke with a kiss to his earlobe, "I'm not sure who...and this is the only way I know of to find out..."

Kurama returned to their three-step with a grin; "Then we shall think of the regrets later." His pants became loose as a result of Yusuke's devilish maneuvers, and he let out a moan, followed by, "Should we be quiet?"

"Mm..." thought the other boy aloud, "I think I'd be insulted." The insinuation of their positions made Kurama gasp, and Yusuke replied with an ambitious chuckle, "But no. Kuwabara's probably the deepest sleeper I know. As long as he doesn't get any sort of psychic vision dream thingies..then damn...we're in the cle-"

"Urameshi!" yelled a hoarse whisper; its sound followed by the sliding of a door, "What the _hell_ are you two doing!"

"It's. Um. DA-" Kurama cut him off with a clamp to the mouth.

"We gotta hide!" the frantic Kuwabara announced, running his hands along the door and then locking it, "There's some guys here!"

"What?" inquired the half-dressed Urameshi, "What do you _mean_?"

"Like I think they're the yakuza and they're lookin' for something or someone or whatever!"

"That lock broke yesterday!" Yusuke remarked as he help Kurama button his pants, "Get in the closet. It locks from inside."

"Okay!" Kuwabara agreed, huddling into the small space with his two allies. Cradling Yusuke for comfort _and_ to save space, Kurama glanced at Kuwabara with worry, trying to communicate with him some sort of plan for escape.

Yusuke...he felt himself trembling; shuddering in Kurama's strong embrace. What could they be looking for? His mother clearly wasn't home; so what was it that they were after? He couldn't just barge in and find out; for all he knew they were after him to use as a leverage, or possibly as a sexual slave. On the other hand, if he appeared and defended the Urameshi honor, they may very well just come after his mother time and time again.

But if they _were_ looking for him...could he not just go willingly and then bust them up later?

"_Aiyee_!"

"Mom!" Yusuke let out suddenly. That was _not_ a scream of excitement.

"Shh!" hushed a consoling Kurama. He touched a caring palm to the son's neck. This was an all-too-serious matter. Kazuma observed with curious eyes as Yusuke took comfort in the fox's hold, wondering how he hadn't noticed such comradery and compassion before.

"The kitchen, Kurama," the tallest pointed out. Their relationship...was amazing; however; Yusuke was still wrong for having become such a promiscuous playboy. He made more than a mental note to scold him later.

Ivy perked up with charismatic interest at Kuwabara's mention; "Yusuke, tell me..."

"What..." he replied through abrasive and grinding teeth.

"Is that plant by your sink real?"

"Yeah...but can't you sense it?"

"It has a very small life force...perhaps it is dying..."

Atsuko yelled again between extremely verbal and drunken curse words; "I've _got_ to go out there, Kurama!"

"Shh...no," commanded the demon, "Please, allow me to return the favor." Having uttered those words, he went to work, using his senses to guide him towards the biological aura of the withering perennial. Yes...Yusuke was correct. It was crying but a weakened cry that no one could hear; not even between the notes and noises of the wind. It needed to be saved; it had grown dependant within its pottered cage.

_Don't cry_, the spirit within him assured it, _just live_. He felt the petaled leaves of its stem wave to him, beckoning him to stretch out his hand so that they might connect; so that he could rescue it from the valley of death. His aura answered the call, feeding and poisoning the flower with narcotic energies. It became addicted, hungrily begging for more as it grew; mutating at a rate so unbelievably fast that it could no longer be a slave to its cage.

_You see them, do you not?_ The teachings of a gentle captor flowed between the beings like electricity; and soon Kurama had naught else to pass on. _Now...go!_ And suddenly, before the men knew what was going on, constricting vines of enormous girth unfurled like a deluge from the kitchenette.

It was done. With a heavy sigh, Kurama unhanded Yusuke, who escaped from the claustrophobia of the closet to sloppily dress himself before bounding out his bedroom door.

"Mom?" he yelled, racing over to the woman on the couch. He took care not to stumble over the thick roots of the child Youko raised; which curled around the limbs of two unconscious and brawny thugs.

"Yusuke?" she exclaimed with fright. She reached up as he lifted her into a protective hold, and asked, "What the hell happened here?"

"I don't know," he lied as he stroked her hair, "It's okay, though. I'll clean up and everything is gonna be fine."

She sobbed, "I don't get it! How did that dead little flower get so big?" Peering into her son's own misted eyes, she asked, "Is it because of you? Is it the same way you came back to life even though there was _no_ way that you could have!"

"N-no..."

Kurama, now dressed and composed, stood upon his toes and peeked over his friend's shoulder. He listened as Yusuke explained that she was only dreaming, instructing her to return to bed.

"So then why are you crying?" she asked him, voice baked with a concerned innocence.

"I'm not, Mom," he sniffled, "That's why it's a dream. That's why there's a giant plant in the kitchen, that's why..." He looked behind him, his eyes asking Kurama to come up with something to make it seem like a dream; "...That's why you're actin' this way. Come on, let's get you back in your room."

_To Be Continued..._

(1) The solarplex is that area right beneath the arc of a person's ribs, on the diaphragm of the abdomen, where one can be hit and have the wind knocked out of them. This is why the "shout of spirit" (aka, the hi-yahs, Kyas, and other grunts/shouts you hear during fights) is essential in martial arts; it not only helps the fighter tense their muscles up for easier defense, but releases that air so in the event that a hit to stomach occurs; they can easily recover.

**

* * *

Author's Note**

I absolutely adore this chapter to no end. Probably because this is the second version of Act IV, or possibly because it's a parody, advertisement, and satire on bad fan-fiction all rolled into one giant conglomerate piece of writing.

If anyone wants to read the 3.3k worth of words from the original Act IV (which I can assure you, is _completely_ different), then please visit my bravejournal, where I will post it up in its uneditted entirety.

Thanks for all of the reviews, hits, faves, alerts, and other neat stuff!

Zelia


	5. Act V: Incomplete

Hi everyone. Thank you for the marvelous reviews and faves and C2 additions, and...Well, just thank you so much! The reviews don't say much, but according to my hit counter, I have a little over _five hundred_ people reading through each and every chapter (And yes, I don't get too excited over hits on chapter 1, since you have to always strike chapter 1 before the site allows you to go to the other chapters). This has made me feel...Well, I can't explain it. I never expected to visually see such a turn-out. Just goes to show that you can't always judge a story by it's review count.

Oh yes. My absence is explained in my bio. I got married, and all sorts of other stuff.

Enjoy, and please review!

**Disclaimer:** _Yu Yu Hakusho_ © Yoshihiro Togashi

**Sketch Me**

By Zelia Theb

Act V: Incomplete

Clean up did not go well. The plant was very much alive, and after having raised it like his own offspring, Kurama had a difficult time putting it to rest. Kuwabara; while still unable to give his allies proper eye-contact; had suggested that they allow the plant to survive, and attempt to carry both it and the men it had captured into an alleyway. Yusuke and Kurama quickly agreed, despite knowing how heavy the task would be, and they began to carry the plant in sections out of the apartment.

Needless to say, it was rather difficult to carry the unusual object through the streets, and even harder to take a route not frequented by all-nighters, taxis, and police.

After returning and cleaning up the remainder of the mess, Kuwabara instructed the two reckless "romantics" to head straight to Urameshi's room, where he was going to have it out with them.

This was precisely the sort of situation that the young detective was hoping to avoid. On the flipside, the foxy Kurama thought the situation was fabulous. He didn't exactly want to endure such an eventful and embarrassing conversation, but he wanted to ensnare Yusuke into finding some sort of resolution to his activities.

Kazuma, the tertiary peak of this conversational triangle, was everything but composed. He had discovered far more about Urameshi than any judge of his delinquency would ever be able to; the situation was delicate, dreadful, and disastrous.

"Urameshi," Kuwabara finally began, deciding that his words would make more sense if they were spoken, "What the hell is going on?"

Still a little less than pleased, Yusuke put on a straight yet hurtful face, and replied, "Whaddya mean, Kuwabara? Didn't you see it for yourself?"

Kuwabara growled at Yusuke's audacity, which was more suited to battle than serious discussions. "Yeah, I did. And I thought I saw you and Hiei at the game too. I figured Kurama would be able to figure out what was wrong with your head, but I guess not, huh." Semi-slivered and sleepy eyes pierced directly into Kurama, then quickly thrusted toward the other teen again. He was more than angry now. Kuwabara was reminded of his feelings back in the kitchen, those same feeling that told him he would always just be a tag-a-long, and nothing more than third rate.

"Whaddya mean, "wrong with my head", huh?" Yusuke exclaimed, "Is it because they're-"

"No!" was the fast retort, "It's not because of that!" The two settled down for a moment, and Kuwabara rethought his answer and corrected it. "Well, it is. But not because there's something wrong with it. I mean, it's kinda _weird_ to just find that out so suddenly."

"I understand, Kuwa," said Kurama lightly, "It seems as though you feel like Yusuke could have confided in you beforehand, instead of betraying your trust."

"_What!_" Yusuke remarked, "I just didn't need everyone to go around blabbing to everyone!"

This was even more of an insult to Kuwabara. He had always held strong to his honor code, and figured that through his tough exterior, that he could be trusted no matter what. It had finally gone far beyond the fair belittling that he had always encountered in the group.

"I would _never_ tell anyone, Urameshi! You're such a jerk!" Yusuke jumped back, shocked. "What I'm really _worried_ about; yeah, that's right, _worried_, you asshole; is your whole relationship with Keiko. And what about when Hiei finds out?" Kazuma's voice gained a tinge of shriek; "I mean, since when the hell does that guy even admit he likes people? Am I totally missing something?"

"Just forget about Keiko. Jeez. She's not here." Those words were quickly regretted as Kuwabara gripped tightly at the collar of his shirt. Kurama too, was shocked, and jumped back a bit in order to avoid being hit.

"She's my friend too!" Kuwabara cried in high decibel, before adjusting his volume to allow Atsuko to rest. He leaned in closer, trembling and furious, and stated, "You can't just go around hurting people. Keiko _loves_ you. Kurama obviously likes ya a lot too, and Hiei, I don't really know, but I wouldn't wanna piss off someone who probably had a bad childhood or somethin'. What's gonna happen to the team if you screw everything up?"

The teen let out a grunt of disgust and jerked away from Kuwabara's hold, falling harshly into his bed. Upon straightening his stretched shirt, he answered, "I don't know. I wanted to know what it was like. How would you feel if you had a crush on someone and ya couldn't really explain why?"

"Hello, Urameshi!" the tallest interjected, "Meet Yukina!" With his hands, the boy quickly made a make-shift marionette, and made it speak by clamping his fingers together. "_Hi, I'm Yukina!_" it said, "_I'm super pretty and Kuwabara really likes me a lot even though I don't really seem to understand it!_"

"Feh," said Yusuke, "And you think Hiei's gonna kill _me_? I'd hate to see what he'd do if he saw _that_."

"Shut up!" Kuwabara shouted, "I'm trying to make a point here!"

"A point?" seethed Yusuke, "Yeah. A point. "I'm trying to make a point!" says the guy who's jealous because everyone likes me and he can't even get one girl to see that he's ga-ga over her."

"That was pretty cold, Urameshi," Kuwabara remarked dejectedly, "I think it's time for me to go. Sun's coming up an' all..." The teen slowly turned, hoping that perhaps the moment he left that the two remaining in the room would take the time to think about their actions. With a gentle plea, the silent Kurama stopped him from leaving.

The redhead sighed. "You're right. I do like Yusuke very much, but this entire mess is my fault." The other boys remained dumbfounded, since both were certain that Kurama was not responsible for the situation.

"I came across Yusuke and Hiei one day, and grew jealous," Kurama explained, "Had I not given in to my demonic, or should I say, male instincts, perhaps this tangled web would be a little easier to manage." His eyes hit the floor as he ended. He felt as if he didn't deserve to be in the room at moment, having had betrayed more than just one dear friend.

"Uh, Kurama," Yusuke began, correcting him, "When you saw us, Hiei and I hadn't been involved yet. I woke up one morning and found him asleep in my room."

"Hiei stalked you?" uttered a calmer Kazuma.

"Hiei is very attached to him," Kurama confirmed, nodding his head at Kuwabara and then turning back to the detective, "And I feel rotten for allowing myself to get too close to you, Yusuke."

"Whaddya mean he is very attached to me?"

Kuwabara shook his head. It was just as he had thought; Hiei was one to worry about, as he would be the least likely to recover from the emotional damage. He couldn't place a finger on what had given the demon such a hardened, heavy, and helpless heart, but he knew that Hiei had no idea how to deal with these situations. Urameshi was a jerk.

"I think he means he loves you."

A surprisingly shocked mouth metaphorically moved in an attempt to claim that Kuwabara was wrong. But Yusuke said nothing; Kazuma was correct.

"I'll take my leave now," said Kurama. Turning to the atrocious detective, he added, "It is best we don't continue this."

"Yeah... but-"

"No, Yusuke," the fox interrupted, "You were experimenting. That I can understand. However... we know the result of it now."

"Kurama..." Yusuke protested at the last moment.

As he took the last few exiting paces, Kurama answered with a smile, "Besides, the two of you need a chance to talk. I'll see you both at our next mission."

* * *

In the most unusual of circumstances, Hiei had gotten himself careless involved with a human. A _remarkable human_ at that, but nonetheless, a human. And he foresaw no way out of it. Despite his constant inner scoldings, he was quite a failure at persuasion, fumbling upon inconsistencies within his own arguments and half-truths. Regardless, the only cure for this undeniably healthy addiction was to was to let himself fall deeper.

As he charged up for a rather impressive leap to a certain teen's window, a familiar and albeit irritating energy sent the hairs on his neck on end. He masked his energy quickly, and waited as an obviously irritable Kuwabara descended the steps of the building, and finally made his way down the sidewalk.

It was rather close. The demon chastised himself for being so careless. He knew Kuwabara was no fool. Despite being unable to make the connection that he and Yukina were siblings, Hiei was certain that Kuwabara already had an idea that something had changed between himself and the detective.

No fool indeed. Hiei was faced with a callous greeting upon his arrival.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Yusuke, seemingly too busy to be disturbed. He was in the midst of a sketch; of nothing in particular to be exact; but he had finally gotten himself comfortable upon his bed, after slouching against the wall with his sketch pad in his lap.

Hiei said nothing. In light of his inner self forcing him to succumb to his emotions, he still had a difficult time forming any words for the situation.

"I asked you a question."

A sneer beset the smaller's pale face as questions and answers to the the detectives demeanor danced in his head.

"Whatever," scoffed Yusuke, going back to his work, "Don't bother me anymore."

"Bother _you_?" replied Hiei, "Feh. I always knew I was inconvenience. I shouldn't have bothered _myself_ to even come."

"Yeah," Yusuke agreed, lifting his eyes from the paper to see that Hiei had already left, "...You shouldn't have..."

No fool indeed. That Kuwabara had done something to the detective. Hiei was certain of it. In a mere sprint he found himself staring at said fool through his bedroom window.

Kuwabara rubbed his eyes, hoping to wash away their blood-shot color. It was too late in the day to nap; doing so would effectively eliminate his sleeping schedule. So he decided to stay up and study, or even meditate to expand his psychic abilities.

However, he did not feel protected once he sat down to do so. That spine-tickling chill that only Hiei gave him had ruined his pleasant plans entirely.

"Hiei! Why are you here?" he yelled all too loudly.

Scorn held the demon's eyes still, burning savage and contemptuous holes into Kuwabara.

"What did you do to the Detective?" he demanded.

Kuwabara knew that he had done nothing to Yusuke, but figured that Hiei had seen him leave his friend's apartment. The unfair factor in this matter was obvious.

"I didn't do anything!" he shouted, standing. His face was greeted by the tepid tip of a katana.

"I _saw_ you, Kuwabara," Hiei willfully admitted, "Yusuke is different. What did you do!"

"I'm tellin' ya that I did nothin'!" he answered again, "If ya gotta know, I was on your side!"

The blade inched closer. "What do you mean, "my side"! What was there to know about, fool?"

"Hiei!" yelled the teen, defensively taking a stand for himself. In light of his fatigue, his forearm managed to swat the sword to the side, with little if no damage to his resilient skin. His rage erupted. "You know damn well what I'm talkin' about! You guys thought you could hide everything from me like always, but this time it's a different story!"

"You made him this way!"

"That's absurd!" Kazuma screeched, voice cracking, "I was pissed that he wasn't staying faithful to one person, or even telling the truth! Not even to me!"

A bright reflective flash filled the room, followed by the sound of rocks breaking. Kuwabara had winced to protect his eyes from the sight, and when he opened them, he found that threatening sword lodge into his bedroom wall; the demon's hand still attached to the hilt.

"I've had enough of you," Hiei stated, chest rising rapidly with each heavy breath. He pulled the weapon from where it was embedded, leaving a long and nearly horizontal scar in the flesh of the wall, and then left from the hole through which he had entered.

* * *

_Scrape, scrape, scrape_.

The thin piece of metal raked over the plaster one, twice, and then a third time. More plaster. Repeat.

The silence that sat so patiently in the air was cut with a sickle.

"Sorry," Yusuke apologized.

Kuwabara kept working away, his eyes on his bedroom wall. "Don't worry about it, man." Into the bucket again. "We still have sanding to do when this dries."

"And that's when I should worry about it?"

"No," the other corrected, "Just don't ever worry about it. Hiei's a jerk."

"I shoulda told you."

Kuwabara smoothed the new seams of the wall. "No," he explained, "Hiei still woulda gotten pissed."

Yusuke dropped the pallet knife into the bucket. He wanted to tell Kuwabara all of the ways that this could have been avoided. He wanted to apologize profusely to Shizuru; to pay for the expenses of the pained wall; and pick up the pieces of a friendship he had no right to have.

"Urameshi..." his friend began, "I know all of that. I'd rather just fix my wall and pretend this never happened."

Silence. Like the dull and quiet spaces of nothing between words in a story. No thoughts. No words. No scenery. Just two people mending nothing but a single side of a room.

Kuwabara was always left out. Always the one erased out of the picture. The one hidden behind the figurative wall of no windows.

"Kurama said the same thi-"

No look. An absence of motion.

"Done," said Kazuma, "Let's let it dry now."

**The End**

* * *

**Author's Note**

Sorry for taking so long to update.

If you're wondering why the end was lacking, I can only say that it wasn't.

I know, I know. I'm going to get reviews like, "You should make a sequel!", "Aww Yusuke didn't get any action!", "Kurama and Hiei should get together now!", "(Character) and (Character) should get together now!", and the like. So, I'm going to answer them ahead of time.

There will be no sequel, only other stories that reference this title or pull from it (Like my Kurama-Yusuke story Delusion and Black Suicide tie in).

Kurama and Hiei, if I were to write anything further, would not get together after the story because it doesn't make sense for this story.

Other characters might get together. You know. Like Keiko and Yusuke. Yukina and Kuwabara. Sort of like...they do in the series.

Lesson I wanted to put out into the story -

Be reckless, be considerate, be honest, and don't leave someone out because they are (insert something people don't approve of, ugly, fat, gay, black, etc.).

And if you have talent - don't hide it.

-Zelia

(PS - please quote an error if you find it so I can fix it. I did a few checks but I'm in a hurry to get to work and I know I missed something. Thanks!)


End file.
